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THE 

NATIONAL PRECEPTOR : 



SELECTIONS 

"' IN 

PROSE AND POETRY; 

CONSISTING OP 

NARRATIVE, DESCRIPTD E, ARGUMENTATIVE, DmACTIC, 
PATHETIC, AND HUMOROUS PIECES; 

TOGETHER WITH 

DIALOGir^lb, ADDRESSES, ORATIONS, SPEECHES, &.: 

OALCIJLATSO 

(ff°/^W^H^OA "^'^]H''laO^AR IN READtKG AND SPEAKING; AND 
INDS OF YOUTH WITH SENTIMENTS 
lETY AND VIRTUE. 

USE OF SCHOOLS AND ACADEMIES. 
SIXTH EDITION. 




BY J# OLNEY, A. M. 

AUTHOR OF "A PRACTICAL SYSTEM OF MODERN GEOGEAPHY AND ATLAS.'* 



Catholic Universitv of amer^^a 
op^p; OCT 5 19.19 

~^-- NEW YORK. '^ 

ROBINSON, PRATT &. CO., 63 WALL STREJ&T 
1839. 



^i^ff 



I 3 i 



n 

10 



5 

'|DISTRICT OF CONNECTICUT, ss. 
r-r Q -1 BE IT REMEINIBERED, That on bie eighth day of August, in the llfty- 
l^li. ij.j fourth year of the Independence o\the United States of America, Messrs. 
Goodwin & Ca, of the said District, have depc^ited in this office the title of a Book, 
the right whereof they claim as proprietox-s, in aie words following, to wit : 

" The National Preceptor, or Selections in Prose and Poetry ; consisting of narrative, 
descriptive, argumentative, didactic, pathetic,%nd tiumorous pieces: togetlier with 
dialogues, addresses, orations, speeches, &c. ; c^culated to improve the scholar in 
reading and speaking, and to impress the minds a youth with sentiments of piety and 
virtue. Designed for the use of schools and acac^mies. By J. Olney, Author of ' A 
practical system of modern Geography and Atlas.'\ 

In conformity to the act of Congress of the UniteiJ States, entitled, " An act for the 
encouragement of learning, by securing the copies df Maps, Charts, and Books, to the 
authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned." — And 
also to the act, entitled, " An act supplementary to an act, entitled, ' An act for the en 
couragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the au- 
thors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein'nienlioned,' and extend-^ 
ing the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and ,\ 



Other prints.' 



CHARLES A. INGER80LL, 

Clerk of the District of Connecticut. 
A true copy of record, examined and sealed by me. 

CHARLES A. INOERSOLL, 
Clerk of the District of Connecticut. 



) 



u 






\ 



%^ PREFACE. 



The art of reading well, is a highly valued accomplishment, and in all 
our schools should be considered of the first importance ; it is not only the 
foundation of good speaking, but it may be termed the basis of a finished 
education. 

Experience has convinced me that it may be easily, taught, by beginning 
with such lessons as are intelligible and interesting to the learner, and 
making each selection with reference to \}\q natural progress of the mind. 
Where emotions are excited, there is little need of i-ules for their expres- 
sion. 

Questions like the following are often asked : — Why do children and 
youth more frequently fail in good reading, than in any other branch of 
education 1 Why do we often hear a youth, whose tones in conversation 
are varied and agreeable, read in a dull, monotonous manner^ Why are, 
there so few good readers in society 1 We believe a correct answer will 
be found in the fact that bad habits have been formed by a practice of 
reading uninteresting if not unintelligible exercises. Let any competent 
judge examine the books used in teaching this valuable art, and he will 
see that their compilers have hitherto but little known or regarded thes 
taste, woMts and capacities of those for whom they have laboured. 

The following work is designed foi* the middle and higher classes in our 
Academies and Schools. In preparing it, great care has been tal^en to 
select such lessons, as are calculated to give exercise to the various emo- 
tions of the mind and the corresponding tones and inflections of the Yoipe. 
It will be found to conttiin a greater quantity of interesting and ttllful 
matter than any other similar work ; and the different selections are so 
arranged as to give the learner a knowledge of reading the various kinds 
of style, from the simple narrative to the lofty epic. The compiler flatters 
himself that the work is such an one as has long been needed ; and in the 
earnest hope that it may be found useful to the young in improving their 
style of reading, and in exciting them to virtuous action. 

Humbly submits it to the candor 

of an enlightened public, 
J, OLNEY. 

Hartford, April, 1831. ' , 



M 



iv PREFACE. 

The following extract from tlie North American Review is inserted here for 
the benefit of teachers and others interested in the education of youth, 

"It ought to be a leading object in our schools to teach the art of read- 
ing. It ought to occupy three-fold more time than it does. The teachers 
of these schools should labw to impi-ove themselves. They should feel, 
that to them, for a time, arc committed the futixre orators of the land. We 
had rather have a child, even of the other sex, return to vis from school, a 
first-rate reader, than a fii'st-rate performer on the piano-forte. We should 
feel that we had a far better pledge for the intelligence and talent of ouj: 
child. The accomplishment, in its perfection, would give more pleasure* 
The voice of song is not sweeter than the voice of eloquence. And there 
lYiay be eloquent readers, as well as eloquent speakers. We speak of 
perfection in this art; and it is something, we must say in defence of our 
preference, which we have never yet seen. Let the same pains be devo- 
ted to reading, as are required to form an accomplished perfonner on an 
instiniment ; let us have our phonasci, as the ancients had, — the formers 
of the voice, the music-masters of the reading voice ; let us see years 
devoted to this accomplishment, and then we shall be prepared to stand 
the comparison. It is, indeed, a most intellectual accomplishment. So is 
music, too, in its perfection. But one recommendation of the art of read- 
ing is, that it requires a constant exercise of mind. It demands continual 
and close reflection and thought, and the finest discrimination of thought 
It involves; in its perfection, the w^hole art of criticism on language." 



ELEMENTS OF EliOCUTION. 

SIMPLIFIED FROM THE WORKS OF 

PORTER, WALKER, AND RUSH. 

All who attentively observe the movements of the voice in reading or in 
speaking, will perceive that it rises and falls as in singing-. Let any one 
count slowly, and he will easily discover these variations of the voice , as, 
one, tioo, three,— foiir Jive, six ; — here it wih be seen that the voice varies 
in its tones. Let these words drawl off tlie tongue and these slides of the 
voice will be still more apparent. In t*he question and answer, — Will you 

go to-day ? No — any one vv^ill easily perceive that the voice is inclined up- 
wards on tlae word day, and downwards on no. These movements, or slides 
of the voice are called infiections, which include all those gradual waving 
variations which arc heard in good reading, or in animated conversation. 

The modifications of tlie voice ai-e four — viz. The rising inflection, 
which turns the voice, upwards, marked thus (') — ihe falling inflection, 
which turns the voice downwards, marked thus (') — the circumflex, which 
is a union of the falling and rising inflections, marked thus {S) — and the 
monotone, which is a sameness of sound, marked thus (_). That the learner 
may acquire a practical knov/ledge of these infl.ections, it is important that 
he should be exercised on examples like the following, till he can easily 
distinguish one from the other. 

RISING INFLECTION. FALLING INFLECTION.- 

Will you ride or walk 7 

Will you read or spell 1 

Did he act properly or improperly 1 

Is he rich or poor 1 

Is he learned or ignorant 1 

Yfill you go or stayl 

Did you see him' or his brother? 

Did I say fame or blame'? 

Did I say read or read % 

You must not say no ^but no. 

Is he studious 1 So am 'I. 

Does he study 7 I am idle. 

Is he rich 1 I am poor. 

Does he ride 1 I shall walk. 

Will you walk 7 I shall ride. 

Rule 1. Wlien interrogative sentences, connected by the disjunctive or, 
succeed each other, the first ends with the rising inflection, the latter with 
the falling ; as. 

Did you say no or yes 7 

Did you ran or v/alk 1 

Will you write or read 1 

Rule 2. A direct question, or that which admits the answer of yes or no, 
has the rising inflection, and die answer has the falling; as, 
Did you say fcuiie 1 No. I said name. 
Did you speak 1 I did. 

Will you ride 1 I will walk. _ ' 

Rule 3. The indirectquestion and its answer, has the falling inflection; 
Why are you idlel I have no book. 
Why do you study 1 That I may learn. 
What is vour name 7 A good sch lar. 

i* 



vi ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 

' Rule 4. When a sentence is composed of a posith'e and negative part, 
which are opposed to each otlier, the positive must have the falling inflec- 
tion and tlie negative the rising ; as, 

He did not say yours ^but mine. 

He did not say younger but older. 

He will not go to-day but to-morrow. 

Study not for o/niusement but for improvement. 

Rule 5. Conmiands, denunciation, reprehension, generally require the 
faUing inflection ; as, 

Give me the book. Hence ! begone ! away ! 
Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves. 
"Wo mito you Pharisees I Why tempt ye me. 
Rule 6. When two members consisting of single words commence a sen- 
tence, the first has the falling, the second the rising inflection ; as, 
Idleness -and ignorance are inseparable companions. 
Rule 7. The final pause, or that which denotes the sense to be fuiished, 
requires the falling inflection ; as, 

Love, joy, peace; long-sufTei-ing', gentleness, goodness. faith', meekness', 
and ten:perance, are the fruits of the Spirit. 

Rule 8. Tender emotions require tlie rising inflection ; as, 
Jesus saith unto lier, Mary. 
You too, Brutus. 
Rule 9. The circumflex is generally applied to phrases that are of a hy- 
pothetic nature, and to negations contrasted with afhrmations ; as, 
If ye love me, keep my commandments. 
The kingdom of God is not in words, but in power. 



PAUSES. 
Pauses are distinguished into two kinds; viz. The GrammalicalPause^ 
designated by points, and addressed to the eye; and the Rhetorical Pause, 
dictated by tire sense, and therefore addressed to the ear. 

It is taken for granted that the learner is already acquainted with tlie 
first, which renders it unnecessary to give any explanation of it here. 

The Rhetorical Pause is that cessation of the voice which the reader or 
speaker makes after some important word in a sentence, and upon v/hich 
he wishes to fix the attention of tlie hearer. 

When a proper name, or a word which stands for the subject of a dis- 
course, begins a sentence, it requires a pause after it, although the gram- 
matical relation would allow no visible punctuation ; as 
Hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays to virtue. 
Prosperity gains friends ; adversity tries them. 
Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil the better artist. 
Here, although the grammatical relation would admit no visible pause 
after the words in Italic, yet the ear demands one, which no good reader 
would fail to make. The following examples are marked to show more 
fully the use of this pause. 

>Sowe— place the bliss in action, sovie—\n ease; 
Those — call it pleasure, and contentment — these. 
Thou — art the man. 
The young — are slaves to novelty ; the old — to custom. 



ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 



vu 



Memory — is the purveyor of reason. 

Man — is tiie merriest species in the creation. 

Virtue — is of intrinsic value. 

The great pursuit of man — is after happiness. 

The good reader will perceive the propriety of pausing after the ^first 
word, as the subject of the sentence. By this pause the mind is fixed 
upon tlie principal object of attention, and prepared to proceed with clear- 
ness and deliberation to the reception of what follows. 



PITCH OF VOICE. 



By Pitch of Voice is meant those high and lov) tones which prevail in 
speaking. Every person has three pitches of voice, which are easily dis- 
tinguished ; viz. — the natural or middle pitch, — the high pilch, — and the 
lo^o pitch. The natural or middle pitch is that which is heard in com- 
mon conversation. The high pitch is used in calling to one at a distance. 
The low pilch is employed when we speak to one quite near, and v»-ho, 
though surrounded by many, is the only one supposed to hear. 

The learner must be informed here, that high and loud, and low and 
soft, have not the least affinity. To render the different pitches of the voice 
clear and intelligible to the learner, the following diagram is inserted, ex- 
hibiting to the eye a scale of speaking tones, similar to that used in music. 





2 


3 


4 




7 




4 


3 


2 








6 


i. 






5 


High Pitch. 


5 














Middle Pitch. 






• 














1 








Low Pitch. 








1 



Let the learner commence in as low a bass-key as possible, and count 
up the diagram, rising a tone* each number, the same as sounding the 
eight notes in music, and he will easily discover that the degrees of pitch 
in speaking, are the same as those in singing. This scale of speaking 
tones, may seem difficult at first, but a very little practice will render it 
easy. Let the learner speak one in as low a bass-key as possible — then 
tioo, &c. and he will find that he can speak these with as much ease and 
correctness as he can sing them. When he has acquired a knowledge of 
these different pitches and tones — let him take a sentence and read it on 
the lowest note — then read it on a note higher, and so on, till he has 
reached the highest note of his voice. Take the following line. 
" On, — on, — to the just and glorious strife." 

* The Semitone betv/een the 3 and 4 is not noticed here, being unnecessaiy in th^. 
present case. 



viii ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 

A little practice, it is believed, will give the reader a perfect command of 
his voice in all the degrees of tone from tlie lowest to the highest notes to 
which the voice can be raised. 



ACCENT. 
Accent is a stress of voice given to a particular syllable to distinguish it 
from others in the same word ; as in the word a-ione'-vient, the stress is 
laid on the second syllable. Accent is, in a measure, dependent on em- 
phasis, and is transposed where the clainis of emphasis require it ; as 
when words occur, which have a partial sameness in form, but are con- 
trasted in sense ; as, 

Neitlierjiistice nor injustice. 

Is'eitlicr honor nor dishonor. 

He must increase but I must decrea.se. 

He that ascended is the same as he that descended 

Meither lawful nor unlawful. 

Neither tcorthy nor w?iworthy. 



EMPHASIS. 

Emphasis is a stress of voice laid on particular words in a sentence, tc 
distinguish them from others, and convey their meaning in the best man- 
ner; as, " You were not sent here to play, but to study." The learner 
will perceive that the words play and study are pronounced with more 
force dian the rest of the seiitence, and are therefore termed the emphatical 
words. 

A word, on uhich the meaning of a sentence is suspended, or placed in 
contrast, or in opjyosition to other words, is always emphatical. 

As to the degree or intensity offeree that the reader or speaker should 
give to important words in a sentence, no particular i-ules can be given. 
He must enter into tlie spirit of what he reads — -feel the sentiment ex- 
pressed, and he will seldom fail in giving each word its proper force, or 
emphatic stress. Emphasis is ever associated with thought and emotion ; 
and he who would become eminent as a reader, or speaker, must remem- 
ber that the " soixl of eloquence »« feeling." 

EXAMPLES FOR EXERCISE. 

I do not request your attention, but demand it. 
It is not so difficult to talk well, as to live well. 
Prosperity gains friends, adversity tries them. 

'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill 

Appear in writing or in judging ill. 
.4ng-eZs .' and ministers of ^race,— defend us. 
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 



A METHOD OF MARKING THE DIFFERENT FORCES OF WORDS. 

Various methods have been devised to mark tlie different forces of words 
in sentences, in such am.anner as to convey a clear idea of the pronuncia- 
tion. The most simple and practical method is to unite the unaccented 
words to those that are accented, as if they were syllables of them. This 
classification naturally divides a sentence into just so many ^Dortions, as it 
contains accents ; as in the following sentence : 

Prosperity | gains friends | and adversity | tries them. 

When there is no uncommon emphasis in a sentence, we can pronounce 
* with more or fewer accents, without materially affecting the sense. The 



CONTENTS. ix 

following sentence may be pronounced in four portions, or in ten. without 
any injury to the sense of it, 

Pitchuponthcitcourseoflife | whichisthemostexcellent | andedstom | will 
makeitthemostdelightful. 

Pitch j uponthdt | course | oflife | w^hichisthemost | Excellent | andcds- 
tom { willmakeit | themost | delightful. 

Some I place the bliss | in action ] some | in ease. 
Those I call it | pleasure | and conientment | these. 

The following extract from the poems of Ossian is inserted as scored 
by Dr. Rush: 

And is the son of Semo fallen ? | Mournful are Tura's walls. ( Sorrow 
dwells at Danscai. | Thy spouse is left alone in her youth. | The son of 
thy love is alone ! | He shall come to Bragela, | and ask why she weeps '^ 
I He shall lift his eyes to the wall, | and see his father's sword. ] "W hose 
sword is that? | he will say. | The soul of his mother is sad. | Who is 
that, I like the hart of the desert:, | in the murmur of his course 7 | His 
eyes look wildly round | in search of his friend. | Conal | sonof Colgar, | 
where hast thou been | when the mighty fell 1 \ Did the seas of Cogorma 
roll round thee 1 \ Was the wind of the south in thy sails 1 \ The mighty 
have fallen in battle, | and thou wast not there. | Let none tell it in Sel- 
ma, I nor in Morven's woody land. | Fingal will be sad, | and the sons 
of the desert | mourn. 



CONTENTS. 



LESSONS IN PROSE. 

Lesson rage 

1. My Dog and my Shadow, -------13 

2. The Honest Moravian, - - Thompsoti' s CollccLion. 15 

3. The Dervis, - - - - - - - Spectator. 15 

4. The Old Lark and her Young Ones, 16 

5. Moderate Wishes the source of Happiness, - - - 17 

6. Affection to Parents Rewarded, ------ 19 

7. The Gold en Mean, -------,- 20- 

8. Against Religious Persecution, - -A Rabbinical Tale. 21 

9. Story of Goffe, the Regicide, - - - - President Dioight. 22 

10. The Affectionate Dog, 23 

11. The French Merchant, - - - - Child's Monitor. 25 

12. Running for Life, - -- - - - - -27 

13. Charles 2d and William Penn, - - Friend of Peace. SO 

14. The Ungrateful Guest, Goldsmith. 32 

15. Parental Tenderness, --------33 

16. No Rank or Possessions can make the guUty mind happy, Cicero. 34 

17. Beavity and Deformity, - - - - PercivaVs Tales. 35 

18. The Discontented Pendulum, - - - Jane Taylor. 36 

19. Battle of Lexington, _->>-. Weons. 39 

20. Battle of Bunker's Hill, - - - - Charles Botta. 41 

21. Application, ---------- 46 

22. The Shortness of Life, 47 

23. The Faithful Greyhound, - - - - M. Dwight. 48 

24. Mortality, - - - - - - - Barbauld. 51 

25. Immortality, - - - - - -_- - Barbauld. 52 



CONTENTS. 



26. The End of Perfection, - - , - Mrs. Sigourney 53 

27. The Two Bees, Doddey 55 

28. Heroism of a Peasant, ---..--. 56 

29. Biographical Sketch of Major Andre, - . . - 57 

30. The Miracle— a German Parable, 60 

31. The Compassionate Judge, ------ 61 

32. The Prudent Judge — an Eastern Tale, - Mass. Magazine. 62 
35. Lion and Dog, ---__. ---66 

38. The Gentleman and his Tenant, ----- 73 

39. Dishonesty Punished, - - ^ - - Kane's Hints 74 

40. Socrates and Leander, -_.-_-- 74 

41. Socrates and Demetrius, -------76 

42. The Dead Horse, Sterne. 77 

43. Biographical Anecdotes, --------79 

44. The Revenge of a Great Soul, 80 

45. Death of Prince William, - • - - - Goldsmith. 81 

48. Naval Action, - - 86 

49. Damon and Pythias, -------- 90 

50. Test of Goodness, - - - - - - - - 92 

51. The Mysterious Stranger, . - - . Jane Taylor. 93 

52. Earthquake in Calabria, ----- Golds7/iith. 98 

53. The Starling, Sterne. 100 

54. Alcander and Septimius, ----- Goldsmith. 102 

55. Ingratitude — Story of Inkle and Yarico, - - - - 104 

60. Story of the Siege of Calais, ------ -112 

61. Exam.ples of Decision of Character, - - John Foster. 116 

62. Ortogrul: or, the Vanity of Riches, - - Dr. Johnson. 118 

63. Schemes of Life often Illusory, - - - Dr. Johnson. 121 

6 i. The Hill of Science, - Aikin. 123 

65. The Vision of Mirza, ----- Spectator. 126 

70. The Voyage of Life, Dr. Johnson. 137 

71. The Journey of a Day — a picture of human life. Dr. Johnson. 140 

75. Destruction of Jerusalem, - - ----- 148 

76. Destruction of Jerusalem — concluded, - _ _ _ 152 
79. Address to the Sun, - - - - - - Ossian. 160 

81 Formation of Character. - - - - J. Hcnoes, D. D. 162 

82. On Happiness of Temper, ----- G-oldsmith. 164 

84. A Good Scholar, May. 168 

85. Select Sentences, - -- - - - - - - 170 

86. Select Paragraphs, -- - - - - - - 173 

87. Happiness is founded in rectitude of conduct, - Harris. 177 

88. Virtue and Piety mtm's highest interest, - - Harris. 173 

89. Importance of Virtue, ------ Price. 179 

90. The Folly of Inconsistent Expectations, - - Aikin. 180 

91. On the Beauties of the Psalms, - - - - Home. 182 

98. On the Irresolution of Youth, - - - - Goldsmith. 190 

99. The Hero and the Sage, 193 

100. The Blind Preacher, Wirt. 194 

101. Specimen of Welch Preaching, London Jewish Expositor. 196 

102. Happiness, - - - - - - - Lacon. 199 

107. The Dervis and the Two Merchants, - - - Lacon. 914 

108. On the Present and Future State, - - - Addison. 215 
113. The Just Judge, .223 

•114. On Happiness, - - - - - ,. - _ - Sterne. 220* 



CONTENTS. 



xi 



115 On Sincerity, Tillotson. 223 

110 Story of Le Fevre, ------ Sterne. 230 

119 Speech of a Scythian Ambassador to Alexander, Q,. Cur tuts. 2-14 

120 Diogenes at the Isthmian Games, ----- 245 
125 The Nature of True Eloquence, - - - D. Webster. 254 

120 The Perfect Orator, Sheridan. 254 

127- Rolla's Address to the Peruvians, - - Sheridan. 255 

132. Character of William Pitt, - - - _ - - - 267 

133. Character of the Pux'itans, - - Edinburgh Revievj. 268 

134. Character of Washington, _ - _ _ Phillips. . 271 
138. Address to the Patriots of the Revolution, - D. Webster. 275 
131). Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis, - _ _ 277 

140. On Conciliation with America, - _ _ - Burke. 273 

141. Speech on the (Question of Yv^ar with England, Patrick Henry. 280 
140. Hannibal to Scipio Africanus, ------ 288 

147. Scipio's Reply to Hannibal, _-___- ^ 290 

149. Brutus Speech on the Death of Cesar, - - Shakspeare. 293 



23. 
33. 
34. 

45. 
46. 
47. 
52. 
56. 
57. 
58. 
59. 
Q>Q,. 
07. 
03. 
09. 
72. 
73. 
74. 
77. 
78. 
80. 
83. 
92. 
93. 
94. 
95. 
96. 
97. 
104. 
105. 
106. 
109. 
110. 
111. 



LESSONS IN POETRY. 

Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound, - W. Spencer. 49 

The Fox and the Cat, 04 

Might makes Right, - - 05 

He never smiled again, - - - - - Mrs. Henians. 82 

The Shepherd and the Philosopher, ----- 83 

The Youth and the Philosopher, . - - Whitehead. 85 

The V/ild Boy, - - - - Charles W. Thompson. 99 

The Battle of Blenheim, Southcy. 106 

The Dog and the Fox, - - - - - - Ga]/. 108 

The Hare and the Tortoise, - - - _ Lloifd. 109 

The Painter who pleased Nobody and *£ very Body, - Gay. 110 

The Chameleon, ------ Merrick. 130 

The Country Bumpkin and Razor Seller, - P. Pindar. 132 

The Gascon Peasant and the Flies, ----- 134 

The Progress of Untruth, ----- Byrom. 130 

The Mummy, - _ Smith. 143 

The Negro's Complaint, ----- Cowper. 145 

Victory, ---------- 147 

The Warrior's Wreath, 156 

Elegy written in a Country Church Yard, - - Gray. 156 

The African Chiet - - - U.S. Literary Gazette. 161 

The Sleepers, - _ - - Miss M. A. Browne. 167 

Two Voices from the Grave, - - - Karamsin. 183 

The Batde of Linden, - - - - - Campbell. 185 

The Indian Chief, - - - 186 

The Burial of Sir John Moore, - - - - Wolfe. 187 

Boadicea, -------- Coivper. 188 

The Common Lot, ----- Montgomery. 189 

The Philosopher's Scales, - , - - - J. Taylor. 205 

Goody Blake and Harry Gill^^ - - - Wordsv'orth. 208 

The Three Warnings, - - - - Mrs. Thrale. 211 

My Mother's Picture, * ■'i\S^'^^-Aa. ~ " Cowper. 218 

Ode to DisappointMient, . . -'- ^i^^^'Ef^^Sl^y Kirke White. 219 

What is Time, ^'' s^\^' iQ|" ^^t^'jrRj'C^^' -lil% Marsden. 220 

fL I B R A R Y| 

QTO^ 



SM 



CONTEISTS. 



112. 
121. 
122. 
123. 
124. 
128. 
129. 
130. 
J31. 
135. 
136. 
137. 
142. 
143. 
144. 
145. 
148. 
150. 
151. 
152. 
153. 
154. 
155. 
156. 
157. 
158. 
159. 
IGO. 
161. 
162. 
163. 
164. 
165. 
166. 
167. 
168. 
169. 
170. 
171. 
172. 
173. 
174. 
175. 
176. 
177. 
178. 



36. 

37. 
103. 
117. 
118. 



Casablanca, ------ Mrs. Hcvians. 222 

Diversity in the Hmnan Character, . - - Pojpe. 247 

On the Pursuits of Mankind, Pope. 249 

The Road to Happiness open to all Men, - - Pope. 251 

Providence Vindicated in tlie Present State of Man, Pope. 252 

I'he Hermit, , Beattie. 256 

The Marriner's Dream, Dimond. 258 

Alexander Selkirk, - Cowper. 259 

The Hermit, - ' - - - - - - Parnell. 261 

Stanzas addressed to the Greeks, - . . - 272 

Song- of the Greeks, 1822, - - - . Campbell. 273 

Warren's Address to the American Soldiers, - Picrpont. 275 

On the Existence of a Deity, - - - - Young. 283 

To-morrov/, -------- Cotton. 284 

Vanit^y of Pov/er and Miseiy of Kings, -. Shakspeare. 285 

Darkness, _-__---- Byron. 286 

Cassius instigating Brutus, - Tragedy of Julius Cesar. 291 

Antony's Speech over the Body of Cesar^ - S/talspeare. 294 

Othello's Apology for his Marriage, - Tragedy of Othello. 296 

Soliloquy of Hamlet on Death, - Tragedy of Havilet. 298 

Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of tlie Soul, Trag. of Cato. 299 

Speech of Catiline before the Roman Senate, Croly's Catiline. 300 

The Rich Man and the Poor Man, - - Khemnitzer. 301 

Address to the Ocean, ----- Byron. 302 

Wisdom, - - - ^, Pollok. 304 

The Inhumanity of Slavery, *"■ - - - - Cctcper. 305 

Tlae Cuckoo, - Logan. 306 

The Star of Bethlehem, - - - - J. G. Percival. 307 

The Last Man, Campbell. 308 

Picture of a Good Man, ----- Ycung. 310 

Hymn on a Revievi^ of the Seasons, - - • Thomson. 31 1 

Gluestions and Answers, - - - - Moni gomcry . 313 

On the death of Mrs. Mason, - - - - ^ Mason. 314 

Ode from the 19th Psalm,' ----- Addison. 315 

Rest in Heaven, -------- 31G 

The Star of Bethlehem, - - - - H.K.Wdie. 316 

Address to Time, ----- Lord Byron. 317 

Absalom, - ' Willis. 319 

The Miami Mounds, - - - - S. L. Fairfield. 322 

On Time, - H K. White. 323 

Jugurtha in Prison, Rev. C. Wolfe. 325 

Rienzi's Address to the Romans, - - Miss Clifford. 328 

Battle of V/aterloo, " - - - - - Lord Byron. 330 

Power of Eloquence, .---.-- Cary. 331 

Death of Marco Bozzaris, Halleck. 333 

Dream of Clarence, ----- Shakspeare. 335 



DIALOGUES. 

Scene from tlie " Poor Gentleman," 

Scene between Captain Tackle and JackBowIin, 

William Tell, 

Prince Henry and FalstafF, - - - - 
Prince Arthur and Hubert, - - - , 



Knoivlcs. 
Shakspeare. 
re. 



67 

70 

201 

237 

S4i 



I?, 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 



LESSON I. / 
My Dog" and my Shadow. 

1. In a solitary excursion through the woods, Major Halden 
fell in with a man whose singular appearance attracted his at- 
tention. He was sitting on the ground at the foot of a beech 
tree, eating a crust of bread, which he shared bit by bit with 
his dog. 

2. His dress betrayed the utmost poverty, but his counte- 
nance exhibited every symptom of cheerfulness. The Major 
saluted hira as he rode past, and the man pulled oft' his hat. 
" Do you see ?" said he to his dog, laughing.* " What could 
the dog see?" asked the Major, whose curiosity was much ex- 
cited by the man's happy looks. 

3. The stranger laughed. " Aye," said the man, in a humor- 
ous tone, " I wish to make the dog take notice of your civility ; 
it is so uncommon for a well-dressed person on horseback, to 
lift his hat or cap to a tattered foot passenger like mic." "Who 
are you then?" said the Major to the m^an, looking at him 
attentively. " A child of fortune." 

4. " A child of fortune ! You mistake, without doubt ; for 
your coat seems to speakotherwise." " My coat is in the right, 
sir. But as I can joke in this coat, — the only one I have, — it 
is of as much value to me as a new one, even if it had a star* 
upon it." "If what you say does not proceed from a disorder- 
ed mind, you are in the right, countryman." 

5. " A disordered mind, or a light mind, is sometimes tlie 
gift of God, at least for children of fortune of my case. — My 
fate once hung heavy on my mind like lead ; but care now 
passes through it as the wind does through my coat, and if that 
be a fault, it m^akes up for a great deal of misfortune." " But," 
says the J-Iajor, "whence did you come, and whither are you 
going?" 

* Star, a badge of rank. 



14 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

G. " That question is not difficult to be answered, sir. I 
came from my cradle, and I am now going straight forward to 
my grave. With these two stages of my life I. am well acquaint- 
ed. In a word, I am endeavoring to soften my fate ; but I must 
have something very engaging, for my dog and destiny remain* 
faithful to m^e ; and my shadow also, but like a false friend, 
only when the sun shines. 

7. " You shake your head, sir, as if you mean to say I have 
made choice of bad company. I thought so at first, but there 
is nothing so bad as not to be useful sometimes. My destiny 
has made me humble, and taught me what I did not before 
knoAv, — that one cannot unhinge the world. My dog has 
taught me there is still love and fidelity in it, and — you cannot 
imagine what fine things one can talk with, and respecting, 
one's shadow !" 

8. " Respecting one's shadow ? that I do not understand." 
" You shall hear, sir — at sunrise, when I am w^alking behind 
my long towering shadow, what conversation I hold with it on 
philosophical subjects. 

9. "Look," say I, " dear shadow, art thou not like a youth, 
when the sun of life is rising the earth seems too small ; just 
when I lift a leg, thou liftest another, as if thou wouldst step 
over ten acres at once ; and yet when thou puttest down thy 
leg, thy step is scarcely a span long. 

10. " So fares it with youth. He seems as if he would 
destroy or create a world ; and yet, in the end, he does none of 
those things which might have been expected from his discourse. 
Let the sun now rise higher, and thou wilt become smaller as 
the youth boasts less, the older he groAVS. 

11. "Thus I compare, you see, the morning, noon, and 
evening shadow, with a hundred things ; and the longer we 
walk together, the better we get acquainted. At present I can 
forego many things which I formerly considered indispensable 
necessaries. 

12. " The shadow is my watch and my servant. It is only 
a pity, that a man cannot exist in his shadow, as his shadow 
does in him." " "Well, and what do you say in the evening to 
your shadow ?" 

13. " A man's shadow then is a very serious thing — the best 
moralist. — When the shadow runs before one, still becoming 
longer and less visible, as if already hiding its head in the 
darkness of eternity, Avhile behind one is the setting ^un, and 
before one a rising star — the shadow then seems to say, thou 
art on the brink of eternity, — thy sun is going down,-^-but lose 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 15 

like me, tliou wilt become always greater ; and 
before thee is already suspended a better star — the first ray 
of eternity beyond the grave." 

14. With these words the man became serious, and the Major 
also. Both looked at each other in silence. " Come," said the 
Major, " you must go with me, countryman." He took the 
stranger by the hand, and conducted him to his house. 



LESSON IL '- 
The Honest Moravian. — Thompson's Collection. 

1. During the last war in Germany, a captain of cavalry 
was out on a foraging* party. On perceiving a cottage in the 
midst of a solitary valley, he went up and knocked at the door. 
Out came one of the Moravians, or United Brethren, with a 
beardf silvered by age. 

2. "Father," says the officer, " show me a field where I can 
set my troopers a foraging." " Presently," replied the Mora- 
^ ian. The good old man walked before, and conducted them 
out of the valley. 

3. After a quarter of an hour's march, they found a fine field 
of barley. "There is the ver)^ thing we want," says the captain. 
" Have patience for a few minutes," replied his guide ; " and 
you shall be satisfied." 

4. They went on, and at the distance of about a quarter of 
a league farther, they arrived at another field of barley. The 
troop immediately dismounted, cut down the grain, trussed it 
up and remounted. 

5. The officer, upon this, says to his conductor, " Father, 
you have given yourself and us unnecessary trouble : the first 
field was much better than this." " Very true, sir," replied 
the good old man, " but it was not mine." 



LESSON m. 3 
The Dervis.f — Spectator. 

1. A Dervis travelling through Tartary,! having arrived at 
the towai of Balk, went into the king's palace by mistake, as 
thinking it to be a public inn, or caravansary. Having looked 

* For-a .ging, collecting food for horses. t Pronounced Beerd. 
t Dervis, a Turkish Priest. 11 A country in Asia. 



16 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

about him for some time, lie entered into a long gallery, where 
he laid down Ms wallet,* and spread his carpet, in order to re- 
pose himself upon it after the manner of the eastern nations. 

2. He had not been long in this posture before he was dis- 
covered by some of the guards, w^ho asked him "what was his 
business in that place ?" The Dervis told them that he intended 
to take up his night's lodging in that caravansary. The guards 
let him know in a very angry manner, that the house he was 
in, was not a caravansary, but the king's palace. 

3. It happened that the king himiself passed through the gal- 
lery during this debate, and siTiiling at the mistake of the Dervis, 
asked him hov/ he' could possibly be so dull as not to distinguish 
a palace from a caravansary? "Sir," says the Dervis, "giveme^ 
leave to ask your majesty a question or two :" 

4. " Who were the persons that lodged in this house Vvheii 
it was first built?" The king replied, " my ancestors." "And 
who," says the Der^ds, "was the last person that lodged here?" 
The king replied, " m)^ father." " And who is it," says the 
Dervis, " that lodges here at present ?" The king told him, 
that it was he himself. 

5. " And who," says the Dervis, " will be here after you ?" 
The king ansv;^ered, " the young prince, my son." "Ah, sir," 
said the I)ervis, " a house that changes its inhabitants so often, 
and receives such a perpetual succession of guests, is not a 
palace but a caravansary." 



LESSON lY. ^ 
Tiie Old LarJc and her Young Ones. 

1 . An old lark had a nest of young ones in a field of wheat, 
which was almost ripe, and she was not a little afraid that the 
reapers would be set to work, before her young ones v/ere large 
enough to be able to remove from the place. 

2. One morning, therefore, before she took her flight to seek 
something to feed them with, " my dear little creatures," said 
she, " be sure that in xnj absence you take the strictest notice 
of every word you hear, and do not fail to tell me of it, as soon 
as I come home again." Some time after she was gone, in 
came the owaier of the field and his son. 

3. "Well, George," said he, "this wheat, I think, is ripe 
enough to be cut doMn ; so to-morrow^ m-orning, as soon as the 
sun is up, go and desire our friends and neighbors to come and 

* Wallet, a small bag, cr knapsack. 



NATIONAL FRECEPTOR. 17 

help ; and tell them, that we will do as much for them the first 
time they v/ant us." 

4. When the old lark came back to her nest, the young ones 
began to nestle and chirp about her, begging her to remove 
them as fast as she could. " Hush," said she, " hold your silly 
tongues ; for, if the old farmer depends upon his friends and 
his neighbors, you may take my word for it, that his wheat will 
not be reaped to-morroAV." The next morning, therefore, she 
went out again, and left the same orders as before. 

5.. The owner of the field came soon after to wait for those 
to whom he had sent ; but the sun grew hot, and none of them 
came to help him. "Why then," said he to his son, " our friends 
have left us in the lurch, so you must run to your uncles and 
your cousins, and tell them that I shall expect them to-morrow, 
betimes, to help us reap." 

6. This also the young ones told their miother, as soon as she 
came home again. " Never mind it," said she to the little 
birds ; " for if that is all, you may take my word for it, that 
his brethren and his kinsmen will not be so forward to assist 
him as he seems v/illing to persuade himself But be sure to 
mind," said she, " what you hear the next time ; and let me 
know it without fail." 

7. The old lark went abroad the next day as before ; but 
when the poor farmiCr found that his kinsmen were full as back- 
ward as his neighbors, " You perceive," said he to his son, 
" that your uncles and cousins are no better than strangers ! 
but hark ye, Oeorge, do you provide two good sickles against 
to-morrow m^orning, and we will reap the Vv^heat ours elves.'''' 

8. When the young birds told the old bird this ; " Now," 
said she, " we must be gone indeed ; for ^Y]\en a man resolves 
to do his work himself, you may then be assured it luill he 
done'^ 



LESSON V. .-■ -^ 
Moderate Wishes the source of Happiness. 

1. The youtiiful shepherd Me-nal-cas, being in search of a 
stray lamb from his flock, discovered in the recesses of the for- 
est, a hunter stretched at the foot of a tree, exhausted with 
fatigue and hunger. " Alas, shepherd !" he exclaimed, " I 
came hither yesterday in pursuit of game; and have been 
unable to retrace the path by which I entered this frightful sol- 
itude, or to discover a single vestige of a human footstep, i 
<4 



IS NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

faint with, hunger; give me relief, or I die !" Me]ialcas, support- 
ing the stranger in his arms, fed him with bread from his scrip,* 
and afterwards conducted him through the intricate mazes of 
the forest in safety. 

2. Menaicas being about to take leave of tlie hunter Eschi- 
mis,! was detained by him. " Thou hast preserved my life, 
shepherd, he said, and I will make thine happy. Follow me 
to the city. Thou shalt no longer dwell in a miserable cottage, 
but inhabit a superb palace, surrounded with lofty columns 3f 
marble. Thou shalt drink high-flavored wines out of golden 
goblets, :j: and eat the most costly viands from plates of silver." 

3. Menaicas replied, "Why should I go to the city ! My 
little cottage shelters me from the rain and the wind. It is not 
surrounded with m.arble columiDS but with delicious fruit trees, 
from vvdiich I gather my repasts ; and nothing can be more 
pure than the water v/hich I draw in my earthen pitcher from 
the stream that runs by my door. Then on holidays I gather 
roses and lilies to ornament my little table ; and those roses 
and lilies are more beautiful, and smell sweeter, than vases of 
gold and silver. 

Eschmu'S. Come with me, shepherd, I will lead thee through 
sum.ptuous gardens, embellished with fountains and statues ; 
thou shalt behold w^omen, whose dazzling beauties the rays of 
the sun have never tarnished, habited in silks of the richest 
hues, and sparkling with jev\^els ; and thou shalt hear concerts 
of musicians vrhose transcendent skill will at once astqnish and 
enchant thee. 

Menaicas. Our sun-burnt shepherdesses are very handsome. 
How beautiful they look on holidays, when they put on gar- 
lands of fresh flowers, and we dance under the shade of our 
trees, or retire to the woods to listen to the song of the birds! 
Can your musicians sing more melodiously than our nightin- 
gale, black-bird, and linnet ? No ; I v/ill not ^o to the city. 

Escliinus. Then take this gold, and with it supply all thy 
vvants. 

Menaicas. Gold is useless to me. My fruit-trees, my little 
garden, and the milk of my goats supply all my wants. 

Escliinus. How shall I recompense thy kindness, happy 
shepherd ? What wilt thou accept from me ? 

Menaicas. Give me only the horn that hangs to thy belt. 
Horn is not easily broken; therefore, it will be more useful to 
me than my earthen pitcher. 

* Scrip, a little bag. t Pronounced Es-ki-nus. t Goblet, abcwl, or cup. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 19 

The hunter, with a smile, took the horn from his belt and 
presented it to the shepherd, who hastened back to his cottage, 
the abode of contentment and happiness. 



LESSON V-I. ^ 
Affection to Parents rewarded. 

1. Frederick, the late king of Prussia, having rung his bell 
one day, and nobody answering, opened the door where his 
servant was usually in waiting, and found him asleep on a sofa. 
He was going to awake him, Avhen he perceived the end of a 
billet, or letter, hanging cut of his pocket. 

2. Having the curiosity to know its contents, he took and 
read it, and found that it was a letter from his mother, thanking 
him for having sent her a part of his wages, to assist her in her 
distress, and concluding with beseeching God to bless him for 
his iilial attention to her wants. 

3. The king returned softly to his room, took a roll of ducats,* 
and slid them, with the letter, into the page's pocket. Return- 
mg to his apartment, he rung so violently, that the page awoke, 
opened ihe door, and entered. 

4 " 1: ou have slept well," said the king. The page made 
an apology, and, in his embarrassment, happened to put his 
hand into Ms pocket, and felt with astonishment the roll. He 
drew it out, turned pale, and, looking at the king, burst into 
tears, without being able to speak a Vv^ord. 

5. " What, is the matter?" said the king; " what ails you?" 
" Ah ! sire," said the young man, throwing himself at his feet, 
*' somebody has wished to ruin me. I know not hov/ I came 
by this money io my pocket." 

6. " My friend,'' said Frederick, " God often sends us good 
in our sleep : bead the money to your mother ; salute her in 
my name ; and assure her that I shall take care of her and 

?/01i." 

7. This story furnishes an excellent instance of the gratitude 
and duty which children owe to their aged, infirm, or unfortu- 
nate parents. And, if die children of such parents follow the 
example ot Frederick's servant, though they may not meet with 
the revv^ard that was conferred on him, they will be amply 

* Du-cat, a coin of several couatries in Europe, struck in the don:iuions 
of a duke. It is of silver, or gold. The silver ducat is generally of the value 
of an American dollar; and the gold ducat of twice the same value. 



20 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

recompensed by the pleasing testimony of their ovv"n rniiids, and 
by that God who approves, as he has commanded, every expres- 
sion of filial love. 



LESSON VII. 7 

The Golden Mean. 

1. When the plains of India were burnt up by a long 
drought,* Hamet and Selim, two neighboring shepherds, faint 
with thirst, stood at the common boundary of the grounds, with 
their fiocks and herds panting round them, and in the extremity 
of distress, prayed for water. 

2. On a sudden, the air was becalmed, — the birds ceased to 
chirp, — and the flocks to bleat. They turned their eyes every 
way, and saw a being of mighty stature advancing through the 
valley, whom^hey knew, on iiis nearer approach, to be the genius 
of distribution. In one hand he held the sheaves of plenty, and 
in the other the sabref of destruction. 

3. The shepherds stood trembling, and would have retired 
before him : but he called to them with a voice gentle as tlie 
breeze that plays in the evening among the spices of SabcEa;i: 
" Flee not from your benefactor, children of the dust ! I am 
come to offer you gifts, which only your own folly can make 
vain. 

4. "You here pray for water, and water I vrill bestow; let 
me know with how much you will be satisfied ; speak not rash- 
ly ; consider, that of whatever can be enjoyed by wobo&y ^excess 
is no less dangerous than scarcity. When you remember the 
pain of thirst, do not forget the danger of suffocation. Now, 
Hamet, tell me your request. " 

5. " O being! kind and beneficent," says Hamet, " let thine 
eye pardon my confusion. I entreat a lutle brook, which in 
summer shall never dry, and in winter shall never overflow." 

6. " It is granted," replied the genius ; and immediately he 
opened tlie ground with his sabre, when a fountain, bubbling up 
under their i'eet, scattered its rills over the meadows; the flow- 
ers renewed their fragrance, — the trees spread a greener foliage 
• — and the fiocks and herds quenched their thirst. 

* Pronounced drout, dryness, want of rain, or water. 
+ Pronounced sa-ber, a short sword. 
t Pronounced Sa-be-a, Arabia. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 21 

7. Then turning to Selim, the genius invited him likewise to 
offer his petition. " I request," says Selim, " that thou wilt 
turn the Ganges through my grounds, with all its waters and 
ail its inhabitants," 

8. Ham.et was struck with the greatness of his neighbor's 
sentiments, and secretly repined in his heart that he had not 
made the same petition before him; when the genius spoke: 
" Rash man, be not insatiable ! Remember, to thee, that is 
nothing, which thou canst not use : and how are thy wants 
greater than the v*^ants of Hamet?" 

9. Selim repeated his desire, and pleased himself with the 
mean appearance that Hamet would make in the presence of 
the proprietor of the Ganges. The genius then retired towards 
the river, and the two shepherds stood waiting the event. 

10. As Selim was looking wdth contempt upon his neighbor, 
on a sudden was heard the roar of torrents, and they found,by 
the mighty stream, that the mounds of the Ganges were broken. 
The flood rolled forward into the lands of Selim, his plantations 
were torn up, liis flocks overwhelmed, he was swept away be- 
fore it. and a crocodile devoured him. 



LESSON VIII. ^" 
Against Religious Persecution. — A RabeixiCxVL Tale. 

1. And it came to pass after these things, that Aram sat at 
ihe door of his tent, about the going down of the sun. And 
behold ! a man benfwith age, coming from the way of the wil- 
derness, leaning on a staft'. And Aram arose, met him, and 
said unto him, ''' Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and 
tarry all night, and thou shalt arise early in the morning, and 
go on thy way." 

2. And the man said, " Nay, for I v/ill abide under this tree." 
But Aram pressed him greatly ; so he turned, and they ^vent 
into the tent. And Aram baked unleavened bread, and they 
did eat. And when Aram saw that the man blessed not God, 
he said unto him, "Wherefore dost thou not Vvorship the m.ost 
high God, Creator of Heaven and earth ?" 

3. And the man answered and said, " i -.rorship the God of 
my fathers, in the way which they have appointed.' ' And Aram's 
zeal was kindled against the man, and he arose and fell upon 
him, and drove him forth with blows into the wilderness. And 
God called unto Aram, saying, " Aram, v/here is the stranger '?"* 



22 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

4. And Aram answered and said, " Lord, he would not wor- 
ship thee, neither Avoiild he call upon thy name, therefore have 
I driven him out before my face into the wilderness." And God 
said, " Have J borne with him these hundred and ninety years, 
and nourished him, and clothed him, notwithstanding his rebel- 
lion against me, and couldst not thou, who art tiiyself a sinner, 
bear with him one night ?" 

5. And Aram said, " Let not the anger of my Lord wax hot 
against his servant ; lo, I have sinned, I pray thee, forgive me." 
And Aram arose, and went forth into the wilderness, and sought 
diligently for the man, and found him, and returned with him 
to the tent, and when he had treated him kindly, he sent him 
away on the morrow with gifts. 



LESSON IX. 9 
Story of Goffe, the Regicide.* — President Dwight. 

1. In the course of Philip's war, which involved almost all 
the Indian tribes in New-England, and among others those in 
the neighborhood of Hadley,t the inhabitants thought it proper 
to observe the first of September, 1675, as a day of fasting and 
prayer. 

2. While they Avere in the church, and employed in their 
worship, they were surprised by a band of savages. The 
people instantly betook themselves to their arms, — -which, ac- 
cording to the custom of the times, they had carried with theni 
to the church, — and, rushing out of the house, attacked their 
invaders. 

3. The panic, under which they began the conflict, was, 
however, so great, and their number v/as so disproportioned to 
that of their enemies, that they fought doubtfully at first, and in 
a short time began evidently to give way. 

4. At this moment an ancient man, with hoary locks, of a 
most venerable and dignified aspect, and in a dress widely dif- 
fering from that of the inhabitants, appeared suddenly at their 
head ; and, with a firm voice and an example of undaunted 
resolution, reanimated their spirits, led them again to the con- 
flict, and totally routed the savages. 

* A regicide is one who puts a king to death. Goffe, Whalley, and Dix- 
well, were three of the judges who condemned to death Cliarles I. king of 
Great Britain, 1648. They afterwards fled to America. 

t Hadley, a town in Massachusetts, on the east bank of Connecticut river, 
&7 miles west of Boston — 40 north of Hartford. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 23 

5. When the battle was ended, the stranger disappeared ; 
and no person knew whence he had come, or whither he had 
gone. 

6. The reKef was so timely, so sudden, so unexpected, and 
so providential ; the appearance and the retreat of him who 
furnished it were so unaccountable ; his person was so dignified 
and commanding, his resolution so superior, and his interfer- 
ence so decisive, that the inhabitants, without any uncommon 
exercise of credulity, readily believed him to be an angel, sent 
by heaven for their preservation. 

7. Nor was this opinion seriously controverted, until it was 
discovered, several years afterward, that Goffe* and Whalleyf 
had been lodged in the house of Mr. Russell. Then it was 
known that their deliverer was Goffe ; Whalley having become 
superannuated^ some time before the event took place. 



LESSON X. /t> 
The Affectionate Bog. 

L In the time of Robespierre, |1 a revolutionary tribunal in 
one of the departments df the north of France, condemned to 
death an ancient and respectable magistrate, on suspicion of his 
being guilty of a conspiracy. Immediately after the decree was 
passed, he was committed to prison, where he saw his family 
dispersed by a system of terror. 

2. Some had taken flight ; others, themselves arrested, were 
carried into distant jails ; his domestics were dismissed ; his 
house was buried in the solitary of the seals ; his friends either 
abandoned him or concealed themselves ; every thing in the 
world was silent to him, except his dog. This faithful anim.al 
had been refused admittance into the prison. He had returned 
to his master's house and found it shut. He took refuge with 
a neighbor, who received him ; but that posterity may judge 
rightly of the times in which we have existed, it must be added 
that this man received him trembling, in secret, and dreading 
lest his humanitv for an animal, should conduct Imn to the scaf- 
fold^ ^^ ^ 

* Pronounced Goff, t Whal-le. 

t Superannuated, to become feeble, or impaired by old age. 

§ Pronoua?.ed Robes-peer', a sanguinary tyrant of France, was born at 
Arras in 1759. At an early period of the French revolution, he became the 
chief of t'ae Jacobins — the leading party at that time, — and at length obtain- 
ed the supreme command. A confederacy was formed against him, and he 
was arrested in the national assembly, and executed in July, 1794. 



24 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. Every day, at the same hour, the dog left the house, ami 
went to the door of the prison. He was refused admittance ; 
but he constantly passed an hour before it, and then returned. 
His fidelity, at length, gained upon the porter, and he was one 
day allowed to enter. The dog saw his master. It was diffi- 
cult to separate them ; but the jailer carried him away, and the 
dog returned to his retreat, 

4. He came back the next morning, and every day; and 
once each day he was admitted. He licked the hand of his 
friend, looked at him, licked his hand again, and went away of 
himself. When the day of sentence arrived, notwithstanding 
the crowd, and the guard, he penetrated into the hall, and 
crouched himself at the feet of the unhappy m.an, whom he was 
about to lose for ever. 

5. They conducted him to the prison, and the dog for that 
time did not visit the door. The fatal hour arrives ; — the pris- 
on opens ; — the unfortunate man passes out ; it is the dog that 
receives him at the threshold. He clings upon his hand. Alas ! 
that hand will never be spread upon thy caressing head ! he fol- 
lows him ; — the axe falls ; — the master dies ; — but the tender- 
ness of the dog cannot cease. 

6. The body is carried away, — he walks by its side ; — the 
earth receives it ; — he lays himself upon the grave. There he 
passes the first night, the next day, and the second night. The 
neighbor, in the mean time, unhappy at not seeing him, risks 
himself, searching |br the dog, guesses by the extent of his fidel- 
ity the asylum he has chosen, — finds him, — caresses him, — 
brings him back, and gives him food. 

7. An hour afterwards the dog escaped, and regained his 
favorite place. Three months passed away ; each morning he 
came to seek his food, and then returned to the grave of his 
master ; but each day he was more sad, more meagre, more 
languishing, and it was plain that he was gradually reaching 
his end. They endeavored, by chaining him up, to wean 
him ; but you cannot triumph over nature ! He broke or bit 
through his bonds ; escaping, returned to the grave, and never 
quitted it more ! It was in v<iin they endeavored to biing him 
back. 

8. They carried him food, but he ate no longer ! For four 
and twenty hours he was seen employing his weakened limbs, 
in digging up the earth that separated him from* the remains of 
the m.an he had so much loved. Passion gave him strength, 
and he gradually approached the body ; his labour of afiection 
then vehemently increased ; his efforts became convulsive! he 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 25 

shrieked in his struggles ; his faithful heart gave way, and he 
breathed out his lust gasp, as if he knew that he had found his 
master. 



LESSON XL ^1 

The French Merchant. — Child's Monitor. 

\. A French merchant, having some money due from a 
correspondent,* set out on horseback, accompanied by his dog, 
on purpose to receive it. Having settled the business to his 
satisfaction, he tied the bag of money before him, and then set 
off for home. His faithful dog, as if he entered into his master's 
feelings, frisked round the horse, barked and jumped, and seem- 
ed to participate in his joy. 

2. The merchant, after riding some miles, alighted to repose 
himself under an agreeable shade, and, taking the bag of money 
iji Ids hand, laid it down by his side under a hedge, and, on 
remounting, forgot it. The dog perceived his lapse of recollec- 
tion, and, wishing to rectify it, ran to fetch the bag ; but it Vv^as 
too heavy for him to drag along. ' 

3. He then ran to his master, and, by crying, barking, and 
hovv^ling, endeavored to remind him of his mistake. The mer- 
chant did not understand his language ; but the assiduous crea- 
ture persevered in his eiforts, and, after trying to stop the horse 
in vain, at last began to bite his heels. 

4. The mercliant. absorbed in some revery, wholly overlook- 
ed the real object of his affectionate attendant's importunity, 
but awaked to the alarming apprehension that he v/as gone mad. 
Full of this suspicion, in crossing a brook, he turned back to see 
if the dog v.'^ould drink. The animal v/as too intent on his mias- 
ter's business to think of him^self : he continued to bark and bite 
with greater violence than before. 

5. " Mercy !" cried the afliicted m.erchant : " it must be so ; 
m^/ poor dog is certainly mad : what must I do ? I must kill 
him., lest som.e greater misfortune befall me ; but with what 
regret ! Oh, could I find some one to perform this cruel office 
for me ! but there is no timie to lose ; I m.yself may become 
the victim if I spare him." 

G. With these words, he drew a pistol fi'om his pocket, and 
with a trembling hand, took aim at his faithful seivant, turning 

* Correspondent, one with whom an intercourse is carried on either by 
letters, or messacos. 



28 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

his face away in agony as he fired ; but his aim was too sure. 
The poor animal fell wounded, and, weltering in his blood, still 
endeavored to crawl toward his master, as if to tax him with 
ingratitude. 

7. The merchant could not bear the sight ; he spurred on 
his horse, with a heart full of sorrow, and lamented that he had 
taken a journey which had cost him so dear. Still, however, 
the money never entered his mind; he thought only of his poor 
Ciog, and tried to console himself with the reflection, that he had 
prevented a greater evil, by despatching a mad animal, than he 
had sultered by his loss. 

8. This opiate to his wounded spirit was inefiectual : " I am 
most unfortunate," said he to himself; "I would almost rather 
have lost my mioney than my dog." Saying this, he stretched 
out his hand to grasp his treasure. It was missing ; no bag was 
to be found. 

9. In an instant, he opened his eyes to his rashness and his 
folly. "Wretch that I am ! I alone am to blam.e. I could not 
com])reheaci the admonition which my innocent and most faith- 
ful friend gave me, and I have sacrificed him for his zeal. He 
wished only to inform me of my mip'^ke, and he has paid for 
his fidelity with his life." 

10. He instantly turned his horse, and went off at full gallop 
to the place where he had stopped. He saw, with half-averted 
eyes, the scene where the tragedy was acted ; he perceived the 
traces of blood as he proceeded ; he was oppressed and dis- 
tracted ; but in vain did he look for his dog — ^lie was not to be 
seen on tlie road. 

11. At last, he arrived at the spot where he had alighted. — 
But what were his sensations ! His heart was ready to bleed ; 
he raved in the madness of despair. The poor dog, unable to 
folloAV his dear, but cruel master, had determined to consecrate 
his last moments to his service. He had crawled, all bloody 
as he v/as, to the forgotten bag, and, in the agonies of death, 
he lay watching beside it. 

12. "When he saw his master, he still testified his joy, by the 
wagging of his tail — he could do no more — he tried to rise, 
but his strength was gone. The vital tide was ebbing fast ; 
even the caresses of his master eould not prolong his life for 
a few moments. 

13. He stretched out his tongue to lick the hand that was 
now fondling him in the agonies of regret, a? if to seal forgive- 
ness for the deed that had deprived him of life. He then cast 
a look of kindness on his m^aster, and closed his eves for evei 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 27 

LESSON XII. / "L 

Running for Life. 

1. Colter came to St. Louis* in May, 1810, in a small 
canoe, from the head waters of the Missouri, a distance of 3000 
miles, which he traversed in 30 da37-s. I saw him, on his arri- 
val, and received from him an account of his adventures, after 
he had separated from Lewis and Clark's party ; one of these, 
for its singularity, I shall relate. 

2. On the arrival of the party at the head waters of the Mis- 
souri, Colter, observing an appearance of abundance of beaverf 
being there, got permission to remain and hunt for some time, 
which he did in company with a man of the name of Dixon, 
who had traversed the immense tract of country from St. Louis 
to the head w^aters of the Missouri alone. 

3. Soon after, he separated from Dixon, and trapped in com- 
pany with a hunter named Potts ; and aware of the hostility of 
the Blackfoot Indians, one of whom had been killed by Lewis, 
they set their traps at night, and took them up early in the 
morning, remaining concealed during the day. 

4. Tliey were examining their traps early one morning, in a 
creek about six miles from that branch of the Missouri called 
Jefferson's Fork, and were ascending in a canoe, when they 
suddenly heard a great noise, resembling the trampling of ani- 
mals ; but they could not ascertain the fact, as the high perpen- 
dicular banks on each side of the river impeded their view. 

5. Colter immediately pronounced it to be occasioned by 
Indians, and advised an instant retreat, but v/as accused of 
cowardice by Potts, v/ho insisted that the noise was caused by 
buffaloes, and they proceeded on. 

6. In a few minutes afterwards, their doubts were removed 
by a party of Indians making their appearance on both sides of 
the creek, to the amount of live or six hundred, who beckoned 
them to come ashore. 

7. As retreat was now imipossible, Colter turned the head of 
the canoe ; and, at the moment of its touching, an Indian seized 
the rifle belonging to Potts : but Colter, who is a remarkably 
strong m.an, immediately retook it, and handed it to Potts, who 
remained in the canoe, and, on receiving it, pushed off into the 
river. 

* St. Louis, a city in Missouri, situated on the Mississippi river, 
t Beaver, an amphibious animal, valuable for its fur, a,nd remarkable fur 
its ingenuity in constructing its lodges or habitations. 



2S NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

8. He had scarcely quitted tlie shore, when an arrow was shot 
at him, and he cried out, " Colter, I am wounded !" Colter 
remonstrated with him on the folly of attempting to escape, and 
urged him to come ashore. Instead of complying, he instantly 
levelled his rifle at the Indian, and shot him dead on the spot. 

9. This conduct, situated as he was, m^ay appear to have been 
an act of madness, but it was doubtless the effect of sudden but 
sound reasoning ; for, if taken alive, he must have expected to 
be tortured to death, according to their custom. ^ He w^as in- 
stantly pierced with arrows so numerous, that, to use Colter's 
Vk^ords, " He ivas made a riddle of.'''' 

10. They now seized Colter, stripped him entirely naked, 
and began to consult on the manner in which he should be put 
to death.' They were at first inclined to set him up as a mark 
to shoot at, but the chief interfered, and, seizing him by the 
shoulder, asked him if he could run fast. 

11. Colter, who had been some time amongst the Keekatso 
or Crow Indians, had in a considerable degree acquired the 
Blackfoot language, and was also w^ell acquainted with Indian 
customs ; he knew that he had nov/ to run for his life, with the 
dreadful odds of five or six hundred against him, and those, 
armed Indians ; he therefore cunningly replied, that he was a 
very bad runner, although he was considered by the hunters as 
remarkably swift. 

12. The chief now commianded the party to remain station- 
ary, and led Colter out on the prairie,* three or four hundred 
yards, and released him, bidding him sauc hiviself if he could. 
At this instant the horrid war-hoopf sounded in the ears of 
poor Colter, who, urged with the hope of preserving his life, 
ran with a speed at which himiself was surprised. 

13. He proceeded towards the Jefferson Fork, having to 
traverse a plain, six miles in breadth, abounding with the prick- 
ly pear, on which he was every instant treading with his naked 
feet. 

14. He ran nearly half way across the plain before he ven- 
tured to look over his shoulder, when he perceived that the 
Indians were very much scattered ; and that he had gained 
ground to a considerable distance from the main body ; but one 
Indian, who carried a spear, was much before all the rest, and 
not more than one hundred yards from him. 

* Pronounced pra-re, an extensive tract of land, mostly level, destitute of 
trees, and covered with tall coarse grass. They are nuintrous in the western 
states and territories, and frequently extend farther than the eye can see. 

t War-hoop, the savage yell of war. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOU. 29 

15. A faint gleam of hope now cheered the heart of Colter : 
he derived confidence from the belief that escape was within 
the bounds of possibility ; but that confidence was nearly fatal to 
him ; for he exerted himself to such a degree, that the blood 
gushed from his nostrils, and soon almost covered the fore part 
of his body. 

16. He had now arrived within a mile of the river, Vvdien he 
distinctly heard the appalling sound of footsteps behind him, 
and every instant expected to feel the spear of his pursuer. 
Again he turned his head, and saw the savage not twenty yards 
from him. 

17. Determined, if possible, to avoid the expected blovr, he 
suddenly stopped — turned round — and spread out his arms. 
The Indian, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and per- 
haps by the bloody appearance of Colter, also attempted to stop 
— but, exhausted with running, he fell, whilst endeavoring to 
throw his spear, which stuck in the ground and broke. 

18. Colter instantly snatched up the pointed part, with 
which he pinned him to the eart^*, and then continued his flight. 
The foremost of the Indians, arriving at the place, stopped till 
others came up to join them, when they set up a hideous yell. 

19. Every moment of this time was improved by Colter ; 
who, although fainting and exhausted, succeeded in gaining the 
skirting of the cotton-tree wood, on the borders of the Fork, 
through which he ran, and plunged into the river. 

20. Fortunately for him., a little belov/ this place was an 
island, against the upper part of which, a raft of drift timiber had 
lodged. He dived under the raft, and after several efforts, got 
his head above water amongst the trunks of trees, covered over 
with smaller wood to the depth of several feet. 

21. Scarcely had he secured himself, when the Indians arriv- 
ed on the river, screeching and yelling like so many fiends.* — 
They were frequently on the raft, during the day, and were 
seen through the chinks by Colter, who was congratulating 
himself on his escape, until the idea arose that they might set 
the raft on fire. 

22. In horrible suspense he remained until night, when, 
hearing no more of the Indians, he dived under the raft, and 
swam silently down the river, to a considerable distance, where 
he landed, and travelled all night. After seven days' tedious 
journeying, he arrived at Lisa's Fort, on the Yellow Stone. 

* Pronounced feends, evil spirits. 
8* 



30 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON XIIL } S 
Charles //.* ajid William Penn.\ — Friend of Peace, 

When William Penn was about to sail from England foi 
Pennsylvania, he went to take his leave of the King, and the 
follomng conversation occnrred : 

" Well, friend William.," said Charles, " I have sold you a 
noble province in North America; but still I suppose you have 
no thoughts of going thither yourself." 

" Yes, I have," replied William, " and I am just come to 
bid thee farev/ell." 

" What ! venture yourself amiong the savages of North 
Anj erica ! Why, man, what security have you that you will 
not be in their vrar-kettle in two hours after setting foot on their 
shores?" 

" The best security in the world," replied Penn. 

*' I doubt that, friend William ; I have no idea of any secu- 
rity against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good soldiers, 
with their muskets and bayonets. And mind I tell you before 
liaiul, that, v.ith all my good v.ill for you and your family, to 
v/hom 1 am under obligations, I will not send a single soldier 
with you." 

" I want none of thy soldiers," aucwered William, "I depend 
onsom nhin;^ better than thy soldiers." 

The iving wished to know what that icas. 

"Why, I depend upon themselves — on their o\YVyiTioralc.cnsc 
— even on that grsce of God which bringeth salvation, and 
which hath appeared unto all m.en." 

" I fear, friend William, that grace has never appeared to "CaQ 
Indians of North America." 

" Why not to them as well as all others ?" 

" If it had appeared to them," said the king, " they would 
hardly have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have 
done.'" 

" That is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy 
subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to 
North America, they found these poor people the fondest and 
kindest creatures in the Avorld. Every day they v/ould wat<:]i 

* Charles II. King of England, A. D, 1660, and reigned 25 years. 

t William Penn, a celebrated quaker, or friend, was born ia London, in 
1644. He established the colony of Pennsylvania, and from him the state 
derives its name. He died at Rushcomb, in England, 1718. The character 
of Penn is truly amiable, benevolent, and humane, and his labours were 
ever devoted to the benefit of mankind. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 31 

for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast 
them on then- best fish and venison and corn, which was all 
that they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as 
we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their 
coimtry and rich hunting grounds, for farms for themselves ! 
Now, is it to be Avondered at, that these much injured people 
should have been driven to desperation by such injustice ; and 
that, burning with revenge, they should have committed some 
excesses?" 

" Well, then, I hope, friend William, you will not complain 
when they come to treat you in the same manner." 

" I am not afraid of it," said Penn. 

"Aye ! how \Yill you avoid it? You mean to get their hunt- 
ing grounds too, I suppose ?" 

"Yes, but not hy driving these poor people away from them." 

" No, indeed ! How then will you get the lands ?" 

" I mean to buy their lands of them." 

" Buy their lands of them ! why, man, you have already 
bought them of m,e." 

" Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate too ; but I did it 
only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any 
right to their lands." 

" Zounds, man ! no right to their lands !" 

" No, friend Charles, no right r.t all :— What right hast thou 
to their lands ?" 

" Why, the right of discovery; the right which the Pope and 
all Christian Kings have agreed to give one another." 

" The right of discovery ! a strange kind of right indeed. — 
Novv^ suppose, friend Charles, some canoe loads of these Indians, 
crossing the sea, and discovering thy Island of Great Britain, 
were to claim it as their ov/n, and set it up for sale over thy head, 
what v\^ouldst thou think of it ?" 

" Why — v/hy — why," (replied Charles,) " I must confess I 
should think it a piece of great impudence in them." 

" Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Christian 
PRINCE too, do that which thou so utterly condemne.it in these 
people whom thou callest savages ? Yes, friend Charles, and 
suppose again that these Indians, on thy refusal to give up thy 
Island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and having 
weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy many of 
thy subjects, and to drive the rest away, wouldst thou not think 
't liorribly cruel?" 

The King assenting to this with strong marks of conviction, 
William proceeded — " Well, then, friend Charles, how can I, 



32 NATIONAL PRECEPTOU. 

who call myself a Christian, do what I should abhor even in 
heathens 1 No, I Avill not do it — But I will buy the right of the 
proper owners, even of the Indians themselves. By doing this 
I shall imitate God himself, in his justice and mercy, and there- 
by insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live to 
plant one in North America." 



LESSON XIY. \ ^ 
The Ungrateful Guest. — Goldsmith. 

1. Philip,* king of Macedon,t is celebrated for an act of 
private justice, which does great honor to his memory. A' cer- 
tain soldier, in the Macedonian army, had, in various instances, 
distinguished himself by extraordinary acts cf valor ; and had 
received many marks of Philip's approbation and favor. 

2. On a particular occasion, this soldier embarked on board 
a vessel, which was wrecked by a violent storm ; and he was 
cast on the shore, helpless and naked, with scarcely any ap- 
pearance of life. A Macedonian, whose lands were contiguous 
to the sea, came opportunely to l3C witness of his distress;' and, 
with the most humane and charitable tenderness, flew to the 
relief of the unhappy stranger. 

3. He bore him to his house, laid him on his ovv'^n bed, revi- 
ved — cherished — and comforted him ; and for forty days, sup- 
plied him freely with all the necessaries and conveniences 
which his languishing condition could require. 

4. The soldier, thus happily rescued from death, was inces- 
sant in the warmest, expressions of gratitude to his benefactor ; 
assured him of his interest with the king ; and of his determin- 
ation to obtain for him, from the royal bounty, the noble returns 
which such extraordinary benevolence had merited. He was at 
length completely recovered; and was supplied by his kind 
host with money to pursue his journey. 

5. After some time, the soldier presented himself before the 
king ; he recounted his misfortunes ; he magnified his services ; 
and this inhuman wretch, who had looked with an eye cf envy 
on the possessions of the man by whom his life had been pre- 

* Philip became king of Macedon, 360 B. C. He was a brave, artful and 
ambitious man. He aspired to the sovereignty of Greece, but was assassin- 
ated by Pausanias, 336 B. C, while meditating the conquest of Persia, at 
the head of the Grecian forces. He was succeeded by his son, Alexander 
the Great. 

t Macedon, an ancient kingdom in the northern part of Greece, now em- 
braced in Turkey in Europe. 



NATiOISAL PRECEPTOR. 33 

served was so devoid of gratitude, and of every humane senti- 
ment, as to request that the king would bestow upon him the 
house and lands, where he had been so tenderly and kindly 
entertained. 

(3. Unhappily, Philip, without examination, precipitately 
granted his infam.ous request. The soldier then returned to 
his preserver ; and repaid his goodness by driving him from 
his settlement, and taking im.mediate possession of all the fruits 
of his honest industry. 

7. The poor man,' stung with such an instance of unparalleled 
ingratitude and insensibility, boldly determ.ined, instead of sub- 
mitting to his w^rongs, to seek relief: and in a letter addressed 
to Philip, represented his own and the soldier's conduct in a 
lively and affecting manner. 

8. The king was instantly fired with indignation. Pie order- 
ed that amxple justice should be done vvithout delay ; that the 
possessions should be immiediately restored to the man whose 
charitable offices had beSn thus horribly repaid ; and, to show 
his abhorrence of the deed, he caused the soldiey to be seized, 
and to have these words branded on his forehead — " The 
Ungrateful Guest." 



LESSON XV. / ^^• 
Parental Tenderness. 

1. During the Indian v/ars which preceded the American 
revolution, a young English officer v/as closely pursued by two 
savages, who were on the point of killing him, when an aged 
cliief interfered, took the officer by the hand, encouraged Mm 
by his caresses, conducted him to his hut, and treated him with 
all the kindness in his pov/er. 

2. The officer remained during the winter with the old chief, 
who taught him their language, and the simple arts with which 
they were acquainted. But when spring returned, thesavages 
again took up arms, and prepared for a more vigorous campaign. 
The old chief followed the yomig warriors until they approach- 
ed the English camp, when, turning to the young officer, he 
thus addressed him : 

3. " You see your brethren preparing to give us battle ; I 
have saved tliy life — I have taught thee to make a canoe, a bow 
and arrows — to surprise the beasts of the forest — and to scalp 
your enemy; wilt thou now be so ungrateful as to join thv 



34 NATIONAL PKECEPTOK. 

countrymen, and take up the hatchet agamst us ?" The Eng- 
lishman declared that he would sooner perish himself than shed 
the blood of an Indian. 

4. The old savage covered his face with both his hands, and 
bowed down his head. After remaining some time in this atti- 
tude, he looked at the young officer, and said in a tone of min- 
gled tenderness and grief, " Hast thou a father V " He was 
living," said the young man, " when I left my native country.'* 
" O how unhappy m.ust he be," said the savage. 

5. After a moment's silence, he added, " I have been a father, 
but I am one no longer ; I saw my son fall by uw side in battle. 
But I have avenged him ; yes, I have avenged him," said he v/ith 
emphasis, while he endeavored to suppress the groans which 
escaped in spite of him. He calmed his emotions, and turning 
towards the east, where the sun was rising", he said, " dost thou 
behold the heavens with pleasure?" "I do," responded the 
young man. "/do no longer," said the savage, bursting into 
tears. 

6. A moment after, he added, " do you look with delight 
upon yonder beautiful flower ?" " I do," ansv/ered the young 
man. "/do no longer," said the savage; and immediately 
added, " Depart to thine own country, that thy father may still 
view the rising sun with pleasure, and take delight in the flowers 
of spring." 



LESSON XVI. / ^ 

No Rank or Possessions can make the guilty mind happy. — 
Cicero. 

1. DiONYsius,* the tyrant of Sicily, t was far from being 
happy, though he possessed great riches, and all the pleasures 
which Avealth and power could procure. Damocles,^ one of 
his flatterers, deceived by those specious appearances of happi- 
ness, took occasion to compliment him on the extent of his 
power, his treasures, and royal magnificence : and declared that 
no monarch had ever been greater or happier than Dionysius. 

2. " Hast thou a mind, Damocles," says the king, " to taste 
tliis happiness ; and to know, by experience, what the enjoy- 
ments are, of which thou hast so hioh an idea ?" Damocles, 

* Pronounced Di-on-ish'-e-us. He raised hiiiisclf froai obscurity to the 
tjirone — reigned forty years — and died 3u6 B.C., and was succeeded by his 
son, Dionysius 11. 

+ Sicily, an island in the Mediterranean, south of [taly. 

t Pronounced Dam'-ocles. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 35 

with joy, accepted the offer. The King ordered that a royal 
banquet should be prepared, and a gilded sofa, covered with 
rich embroidery, placed for his favorite. Side-boards, loaded 
with gold and silver-plate of immense value, were arranged in 
the apartment. 

3. Pages* of extraordinary beauty were ordered to attend 
his table, and to obey his commands with the utmost readiness 
and the most profound submission. Fragrant ointments, chap- 
lets of flowers, and rich perfumes, were added to the entertain- 
ment. The table was loaded with the most exquisite delicacies 
of every kind. Damocles, intoxicated with pleasure, fancied 
himiself amongst superior beings. 

4. But in the midst of all this happiness, as he lay indulging 
himself in state, he sees let down from the ceiling, exactly over 
his head, a glittering swordf hung by a single hair. The sight 
of impending destruction put a speedy end to his joy and revel- 
ling. The pomp of his attendance, the glitter of the carved 
plate, and the delicacy of the viands, cease to afford him any 
pleasure. 

5. He dreads to stretch forth his hand to the table. — He 
throws off the garlandj of roses. He hastens to remove from 
his dangerous situation; and earnestly entreats the king to 
restore him to his former humble condition, having no desire to 
enjoy any longer a happiness so terrible. 

6. By this device, Dionysius intimated to Damocles, how 
miserable he was in the midst of all his treasures ; and in pos- 
session of all tl?e honors and enjoyments which royalty could 
bestow. 



LESSON xvn. / ■' 

Beauty and Deformity. — Percival's Tales. 

1. A YOUTH, who lived in the country, and who had not 
acquired^ either by reading or conversation, any knowledge of 
tlie animals which inhabit foreign regions, came to Tvianchester, 
to see an exliibition of wild beasts. The size and figure of the 
elephant struck him with awe ; and he view^ed the rhinoceros 
with astonishment. 

2. But his attention v/as soon drawn from these animals, and 
directed to another, of the most elegant and beautiful form ; 

* Parro, a boy attending on a person of distinction, rather for formality, or 
6ho^Y, than for scrvitiule. 

t Fronouiu'cd sonl. t Garland, a wreath, or band of flovs-?-'"*^ • 



36 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

and he stood contemplating with silent admiration the glossy 
smoothness of his hair,-ahe blackness and regularity of the 
streaks v.ith which he was marked, the symmetry of his limbs, 
and above all, the placid sweetness of his countenance. 

3. "What is the naine of this lovely animal," said he to the 
keeper, "which you have placed near one of the ugliest beasts 
in your collection ; as if you meant to contrast beauty with de- 
formity?" "Beware, young man," replied the intelligent keeper, 
" of being so easily captivated with external appearance. 

4. " The animal which you admire is called a tiger ; and 
notwithstanding the meekness of his looks, he is fierce and sav- 
age beyond description : I can neither terrify him by correc- 
tion, nor tame him by indulgence. But the other beast, v»^hich 
you despise, is in the highest degree docile, afi'ectionate, and 
useful. 

5. " For the benefit of man, Jie traverses the sandy deserts 
of Arabia,* where drink and pasture are seldom to be found ; 
and will continue six or seven days ^\dthout sustenance, yet still 
patient of labor. His hair is manufoctured into clothing ; his 
flesh is deemed wholesome nourishment ; and the mnlk of the 
female is much valued by the Arabs. 

6. " The camel, therefore, for such is the name given to 
this animal, is more worthy of your admiration than the tiger ; 
notwithstanding the inelegance of his m.ake, and the two bundl- 
es upon his back. For mere external bcaiUy is of little esti- 
mation ; and deformity, when associated v.dtli amiable disposi- 
tions and useful qualities, does not preclude cur respect and 
approbation." 



LESSON XVIII. / ^^ 
TJie Discontented Pendulum. — Ja^je Taylor. 

1. An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's 
kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early 
one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, sudden- 
ly stopped. 

2. Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) 
changed countenance v/ith alarm : the hands made a vain effort 
to continue their course ; the wheels remained motionless v/iih 
surprise ; the weights hung speechless ; each n^.embcr felt dis- 
posed to lay the blame on the others. 

* Arabia, an extensive country in the south-west of Asia: the ia!iabitar.is 
are a wandering people, called Arabs, 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 37 

3. At length, the dial irxstituted a formal inquiry as to the 
cause of the stagnation — when hands, wheels, weights, with 
one voice, protested their innocence. 

4. But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, 
who thus spoke : — "I confess myself to be the sole cause of the 
present stoppage; and I am willing, for the general satisfaction, 
to assira my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." 
Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged, that it was 
on the very point of striMng. 

5. "Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial-plate, holding up its 
hands. "Very good!" replied the pendulum, "it is vastly 
easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every body 
knows, set yourself up above me, — it is vastly easy for you, I 
say, to accuse other people of laziness ! You, who have had 
nothing to do all the days of your life, but to stare people in the 
face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in 
the Idtchen ! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be 
shut up for life in this dark closet, and to v/ag backwards and 
forwards year after year^ as I do." 

6. "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window in 
your house, on purpose for you to look through?" — "For all 
that," resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark here; and, 
although there is a window,! dare not stop, even for an instant, 
to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired of my way of life; 
and if you wish, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my 
employment. I happened this morning to be calculating hov/ 
many times I should nave to tick in the course of only the next 
twenty-four hours; perhaps some of you, above there, can give 
me the exact sum." 

7. The mJnute hand^ being quick at figures, presently repli- 
ed, "Eighty-six thousand four hundred tnnes." "Exactly so," 
replied the pendulum. "Well, I appeal to you all, if the very 
thought of this v/as not enough to fatigue one; and when I 
began to m^ultiply the strokes of one day, by those of months 
and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the 
prospect ; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, 
thinks I to myself, I'll stop." 

8. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this 
harangue; but resuming its gravity, thus replied: "Dear Mr. 
Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious 
person as yourself, should have been overcome by this sudden 
action. It is true, you have done a great deal of work in your 
time; so have we all, and are likely to do; which although it 
may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it ^villfetigue 

4 



38 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

us to do. Would you now do me the favor to give about half 
a dozen strokes to illustrate my argument?" 

9. The pendulum complied, and ticked six tim.es in its usual 
pace. " Now," resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to inquire 
if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagreeable to you?" 
"Not in the least," replied the pendulum, "it is not of six 
strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions. " 

10. "Very good," replied the dial; "but recollect, that 
though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you 
are required to execute but one; and that, however often you 
may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given 
you to swing in." " That consideration staggers me, I confess," 
said the pendulum. "Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, 
" we shall all immediately return to our duty ; for the maids 
will lie in bed if we stand idling thus." 

11. Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused of 
light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; 
when, as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands 
began to move, the pendulum began to swing, and to its credit, 
ticked as loud as ever; while a red beam of the rising sun that 
streamed through a hole in the kitchen, shining full upon the 
dial-plate, it brightened up, as if nothing had been the matter. 

12. When the farmer came down to breakfast that morning, 
upon looking at the clock, he declared that his watch had gained 
half an hour in the night. 

MORAL. 

13. A celebrated modern writer says, "Take care of tlie 
minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves." This is 
an admirable remark, and might be very seasonably recollected 
when we begin to be " weary in well-doing," from the thought 
of having much to do. 

14. The present moment is all we have to do with, in any 
sense; the past is irrecoverable, the future is uncertain; nor is 
it fair, to burden one moment with the weight of the next. — 
Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. 

15. If we had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have 
to take but one step at a time, and this process continued, would 
infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally 
begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a minute tha 
exertion of hours. 

16. Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect 
that we have not to sustain ail its toil, to endure all its suffer- 
ings, or encounter all its crosses, at once. One moment comes 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 39 

^ticlen with its own little burdens, then flies, and is succeeded by 
another no heavier than the last: — if one could be borne, so can 
another and another. 

17. Even looking forward to a single day, the spirit may 
sometimes faint from an anticipation of the duties, the labors, 
the trials to tem.per and patience, that may be expected. Now 
this is unjustly laying the burden of many thousand moments 
upon one. 

18. Let any one resolve always to do right now, leaving then 
to do as it can ; and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, 
he would never do wrong. But the common error is to resolve 
to act right after breakfast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morn- 
ing, or next time; but now, just now, this once, we must go on 
the same as ever. 

19. It is easy, for instance, for the most ill-tempered person 
to resolve that the next time he is provoked, he will not let his 
temper overcome him ; but the victory would be to subdue tem- 
per on the present provocation. If, without taking up the bur- 
den of the future, w^e wo .ild always make the single effort at the 
present moment; while there would, at any one time, be very 
xittle to do, yet, by this simple process continued, every thing 
would at last be done. 

20. It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, merely 
because we forget that when to-morrow comes then will be now. 
Thus life passes with many, in resolutions for the future, which 
the present never fulfils. It is not thus with those, who, " by 
patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory, honor, and 
immortality." ^ 

21. Day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appoint- 
ed task, to w^hich the requisite m.easure of time and strength is 
proportioned ; and thus, having worked while it w^as called day, 
they at length rest from their labors, and their works " follow 
them." Let us, then, " whatever our hands find to do, do it 
with all our might, recollecting that noxo is the proper and 
accepted time." 



LESSON XIX. /■; 

Battle of Lexington* — We ems. 

1. April the 19th, 1775, was the fatal day marked out by 
mysterious heaven, for tearing away the stout infant coionies 
* Lexington, a town in Massachusetts, 11 miles N. W. of Boston. 



40 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

from the old mother country. Early that morning, Genera] 
Gage,* whose force in Boston was augmented to 10,000 men, 
sent a detachment of 1,000 to destroy some military stores 
which the Americans had collected in the town of Concord, 
near Lexington. 

2. On coming to the place, they found the town militia assem- 
bled on the green near the road. " Throw down your arms, and 
disperse, you rehels,^^ was the cry of the British officer, (Pit- 
cairn,) which Avas immediately followed by a general discharge 
from the soldiers ; whereby eight of the Americans were killed, 
and several wounded. 

3. The provincialsf retired. But finding that the British still 
continued their fxre, they returned it with good interest ; and 
soon strewedj the green with the dead and wounded. Such 
fierce discharges of musketry produced the effect that might 
have been expected in a land of freemen, who saw their gal- 
lant brothers suddenly engaged in the strife of death. 

4. Never before had the bosoms of the swains experienced 
such a tumult of heroic passions. Then throwing aside the 
implements of husbandry, and leaving their teams in the half 
finished furrows, they flew to their houses, snatched up their 
arms, and bursting from their wild shrieking wives and chil- 
dren, hasted to the glorious field where Liberty, heaven-born 
goddess, was to be bought v/ith blood. 

5. Pouring in now from every quarter, were seen crowds of 
sturdy peasants, with flushed cheeks and flaming eyes, eager 
for battle ! Even age itself forgot its wonted infirmities : and 
hands, long palsied with years, threw aside the cushioned crutch 
and grasped the deadly firelock. Fast as they came up, their 
ready muskets began to pour the long, red streams of fiery 
vengeance. 

6. The enemy fell back appalled ! The shouting farmers, 
swift-closing on their rear, followed their steps with death, 
while the British, as fast as they could load, wheeling on theii 
pursuers, returned the deadly fire. But their flight was not iiv 
safety. Every step of their retreat was stained with blood — 

* Thomas Gage was an officer of some distinction in the British army. — 
He was appointed Governor of Massachusetts in 1774, and soon began that 
course of illegal and oppressive acts A^'hich brought on the war of the revolu- 
tion. Soon after the commencement of the war, he returned to England, 
where he died, 1787. He was the last Governor of Massachusetts appoint- 
ed by the King. 

f Provincials, those troops raised in the provinces, and sent to oppose the 
British army. 

t Pronounced strowd 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 41 

every hedge or fence by which they passed, concealed a deadly 
foe. 

6. They would, in all probability, have been cut off to a man, 
had not General Gage luckily recollected, that horn of Bri- 
tons, these Yankees might possess some of the family valor, 
and therefore sent 10(X) men to support the detachment. This 
reinforcement met the poor fellows, faint with fear and fatigue, 
and brought them safely oif to Boston. 



LESSON XX. 10 
Battle of Bunker^s Hill. — Charles Botta. 

1. Whether he was deceived by the resemblance of name, 
or from some other motive unknown. Colonel Prescott, instead 
of repairing to the heights* of Bunker's Hill to fortify himself 
there, advanced farther on in the peninsula, and im.mediately 
commenced his intrenchments upon the heights of Breed's Hill, 
another eminence, Avhich overlooks Charlestown,t and is situa- 
ted towards the extremity of the peninsula, nearer to Boston. 

2. The works were pushed with so much ardor, that the 
following morning, by day-break, the Americans had already 
constructed a square redout,| capable of affording them some 
'belter from the enemy's fire. The labor had been conducted 
.?ith such silence, that the English had no suspicion of what 

was passing. It was about four in the morning, when the cap- 
tain of a ship of war first perceived it, and began to play Hs 
artillery. The report of the cannon attracted a multitude of 
spectators to the shore. 

3. The English Generals doubted the testimony of their 
senses. Meanwhile the thing appeared too important not to 
endeavor to dislodge the provincials, or, at least, to prevent 
them from completing the fortification commenced ; for, as the 
height of Breed's Hill absolutely com.mands Boston, the town 
was no longer tenable, if the Americans erected a battery upon 
this eminence. 

4. The English, therefore, opened a general fire of the artil- 
lery of the town, of the fleet, and of the floating batteries sta- 
tioned around the peninsulas of Boston. It hailed a tempest 
of bombs and balls upon the works of the Americans — they 

* Pronounced hites. 

t Charlcstown is one mile north of BopIod, and is connected with it by a 
bridtre across Charles river, 

f Redout, a small square fort, without defence, exceot in front. 

4* 



42 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

were especially incommoded by the fire of a battery planted 
upon an eminence named Cop's Hill, which, situated within the 
town, forms a species of tower in front of Breed's Hill. But 
all this was without effect. 

5. The Americans continued to work the whole day, wit]i 
unshaken constancy; and tow^ards night, they had already 
much advanced a trench, which descended from the redout to 
the foot of the hill, and almost to the bank of Mystic river. — 
The fury of the enemy's artillery, it is true, had prevented them 
from carrying it to perfection. 

6. In this conjuncture, there remained no other hope for the 
English Generals, but in attempting an assault, to drive the 
Americans, by dint of force, from this formidable position. — 
This resolution was taken without hesitation ; and it was fol- 
lowed, the 17th of June, 1775, by the action of Breed's Hill, 
known also by the nam.e of Bunker's Hill ; much renowned for 
the intrepidity, not to say the temerity, of the parties ; for the 
number of the dead and wounded ; and for the effect it pro- 
duced upon the opinions of men, in regard to the valor of the 
Americans, and the probable issue of the whole war. 

7. Between mid-day and one o'clock, the heat being intense, 
all was motion in the British camp. A multitude of sloops and 
boats, filled with soldiers, left the shore of Boston, and stood 
for Charlestown; they landed at Moreton's Point, without 
meeting resistance ; as the ships of war and armed vessels ef- 
fectually protected the debarkation with the fire of their artil- 
lery, which forced the enemy to keep within his intrenchments. 

8. This corps* consisted of ten companies of grenadiers, as 
many of light infantry, and a proportionate artillery ; the whole 
under the command of Major-General Hov/e,t and Brigadier- 
General Pigot. The troops, on landing, began to display, the 
light infantry upon the right, the grenadiers upon the left ; but, 
having observed the strength of the position, and the good 
countenance of tlie Americans, General Hov/e made a halt, and 
sent to call a reinforcement. 

9. The English formed themselves in two columns. Their 
plan was, that the left wing, under General Pigot, should attack 
the provincials in Charlestown ; while the centre assaulted the 
redout; and the right wing, consisting of light infantry, should 
force the passage near the rive r Mystic, and thus assail the 

* Pronounced kore,~a body of armed men. 

t General William HoAve, a brother of Lord Richard Howe, the Admiral 
of the British fleet. He succeeded General Gage in the command wf the 
British army, Octolwr 10, 1775. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. . 43 

Americans in flank and rear; which would give the English 
complete victory. 

10. It appears, also, that General Gage had formed the de- 
sign of setting fire to Charlestown, v/hen evacuated by the ene- 
my, in order that the corps, destined to assail the redout, thus 
protected by the flame and smoke, might be less exposed to 
the fire of the provincials. 

11. The dispositions having been all completed, the Eng- 
lish put themselves in motion. The provincials, that v/ere 
stationed to defend Charlestown, fearing lest the assailants 
should penetrate betv/een this town and the redout, and thus 
find themselves cut off from the rest of the army, retreated. 

12. The English immediately entered the town and fired the 
buildings — as they were of wood, in a moment the combustion 
became general. They continued a slow march against the 
redout and trench ; halting, from time to time, for the artillery 
to come up, and act with some effect, previous to the assault. 
The flames and smoke of Charlesto'^^ai were of no use to them, 
as the wind turned them in a contrary direction. 

13. Their g-radual advance, and the extreme clearness of the 
air, permitted the Am^ericans to level their muskets. They, 
however, smTered the enemy to approach, before they com- 
menced their fire ; and waited for the assault, in profound tran- 
quillity. It would be difficult to paint the scene of terror pre- 
sented by these circumstances. 

14. A large town, all enveloped in flames, which, excited by 
a violent wind, rose to an immense height, and spread every 
moment more and more ; an innumerable multitude, rushing 
from ail parts, to witness so unusual a spectacle, and see the 
issue of the sanguinary conflict that was about to commence. 

15. The Bostonians, and soldiers of the garrison, not in ac- 
tual service, were mounted upon the spires, upon the roofs, and 
upon the heights. The hills, and circumjacent fields, from 
v/hich the dread arena could be viewed in safety, were covered 
with swarms of spectators, of every rank, and age, and sex ; 
each agitated by fear or hope, according to the party he 
espoused. 

16. The English, having advanced within reach of the mus- 
ketry, the Americans showered upon them a volley of bullets. 
This terrible fire was so well supported, and so well directed, 
that the ranks of the assailants were soon thinned and broken— 
they retired, in disorder, to the place of their landing — some 
threw themselves precipitately into the boats. The field of 
battle was covered with the slain. 



44 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

17. The officers were seen running hither and thither, with 
promises, v/itk exhortations, and with menaces, attempting to 
rally the soldiers, and inspirit them for a second attack. Final- 
ly, after the most painful efforts, they resumed their ranks, and 
marched up to the enemy. The Americans reserved their fire 
as before, until their approach, and received them with the 
same deluge of balls. The English, overwhelmed and routed, 
again fled to the shore. 
"l8. In this perilous moment, General Howe remained for 
some time alone upon the field of battle — all the officers, who 
surrounded him, were killed or wounded. It is related, that, 
at this critical conjuncture, upon which depended the issue of 
the day. General Clinton,* who, from Cop's Hill, examined all 
the movements, on seeing the destruction of his troops, imme- 
diately resolved to fly to their succor. 

19. This experienced commander, by an able movement, 
re-established order ; and seconded by the officers, who felt all 
the importance of success to English honor and the course of 
events, he led the troops to a third attack. It was directed 
against the redout at three several points. 

20. The artillery of the ships not only prevented all reinforce- 
ments from coming to the Americans, by the isthmus of Charles- 
town, but even uncovered, and sAvept the interior of the trench, 
which was battered in front at the same time. The ammuni- 
tion of the Americans was nearly exhausted, and they could 
have no hopes of a recruit. Their fire must, of necessity, 
languish. 

21 . Meanwhile, the English had advanced to the foot of the 
redout. The provincials, destitute of bayonets, defended them- 
selves valiantly with the butt end of their muskets. But the 
redout being already full of enemies, the American General 
gave the signal of retreat, and drew off his men. 

22. V/hile the left wing and centre of the English army were 
thus engaged, the light infantry had impetuously attacked the 
palisades, which the provincials had erected, in haste, upon the 
bank of the river Mystic. On the one side, and on the other, 
the combat was obstinate ; and if the assault was furious, the 
resistance was not feeble. 

23. In spite of all the efforts of the royal troops, the provin- 
cials still maintained the battle in this part ; and had no thoughts 

* Sir Henry Clinton, a Britisii General daring a greater part of the Rcto- 
lutionarv war, was the son of George Clinton, one of the colonial governors 
of ]Sew-York. He returned to England in 1783, and was made governor of 
Gibraltar in 17D5, where he soon died. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 45 

of retiring, until they saw the redout and upper part of the 
trench were in the power of the enemy. Their retreat was 
executed with an order not to have been expected from new 
levied soldiers. This strenuous resistance of the left wing of 
the American army was, in effect, the salvation of the rest ; for, 
if it had given ground but a few instants sooner, the enemy's 
light infantry would have taken the main body and right wing 
in the rear, and their situation would have been hopeless. 

24. But the Americans had not yet reached the term of their 
toils and dangers. The only way that remained of retreat was 
by the isthmds of Charlestown ; and the English had placed 
there a ship of war and two floating batteries, the balls of which 
rajied every part of it. The Americans, however, issued from 
the peninsula, without any considerable loss. 

25. It was during the retreat that Dr. Warren* received his 
death. Finding the corps he commanded hotly pursued by the 
enemy, despising all danger, he stood alone before the ranks, 
endeavouring to rally his troops, and to encourage them by his 
own example. He reminded them of the mottos inscribed on 
their ensigns ; on one side of which were these words — " An 
Appeal to Heaven ;" and on the other — " Qui transtulit, sus- 
tinet ;" meaning the same providence which brought their 
ancestors through so many perils, to a place of refuge, would 
also deign to support their descendants. 

26. An English oflicer perceived Dr. Warren, and knew 
him ; he borrowed the musket of one of his soldiers, and hit 
him with a ball, either in the head or in the breast. He fell 
dead upon the spot. The Americans were apprehensive lest 
the English, availing themselves of victory, should sally out of 
the peninsula, and attack the head quarters at Cambridge. 

27. But they contented themselves with taking possession of 
Bunker's Hill, where they entrenched themselves, in order to 
guard the entrance of the neck against any new enterprise on 
the part of the enemy. The provincials, having the same sus- 
picion, fortified Prospect Hill, which is situated at the mouth ot 
the isthmus, on the side of the main land. 

* Joseph Warren was born in Roxbury, Massachusetts, in 1740. He 
studied medicine, and became eminent in the profession. He distinguished 
himself, at an early period, by a zealous opposition to the unjust measures 
of the British government toward the colonies. He was bold, ardent, deci- 
sive, eloquent, and accomplished in literature, and soon rose to the first place 
in the esteem and confidence of his fellow citizens. Four days previous to 
the battle of Bunker's Hill, he was appointed a Major-General in the Amer- 
ican army, and on the day of that battle, to encourage the soldiers within the 
lines, he joined them as a volunteer. He was killed in the 35th year of his age. 



46 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

28. But neither the one nor the. other v/ere disposed to haz- 
ard any new movement ; the first, discouraged by the loss of so 
many men, and the second, by that of the field of battle and the 
peninsula. The provincials had to regret five pieces of cannon, 
with a great number of utensils, employed in fortifications, and 
no Httle camp equipage. 

29. General Howe was greatly blamed by some, for having 
chosen to attack the Americans, by directing his battery in front 
against the fortifications upon Breed's Hill, and the trench that 
descended towards the sea, on the part of Mystic river. 

30. It was thought, that if he had landed a respectable de- 
tachment upon the isthmus of Charlestown, an operation which 
the assistance of the ships of war and floating batteries would 
have rendered perfectly easy to him, it would have compelled 
the Americans to evacuate the peninsula, without the necessity 
of coming to a sanguinary engagement. 

31. They would thus, in effect, have been deprived of all 
communication with their camp, situated without the peninsula, 
and, on the part of the sea, they could have hoped for no retreat, 
as it was commanded by the English. 

32. In this mode, the desired object would, therefore, have 
been obtained without the sacrifice of men. Such, it is said, 
was the plan of General Clinton ; but it was rejected, so great 
was the confidence reposed in the bravery and discipline of the 
English soldiers, and in the cowardice of the Am^ericans. 

33. The first of these opinions was not, in truth, v/ithout 
foundation ; but the second was absolutely chimerical, and 
evinced more of intellectual darkness in the English, than of 
prudence, and just notions upon a state of things. By this fatal 
error, the bravery of the Americans was confirmed ; the Eng- 
lish array debilitated ; the spirit of the soldiers, and perhap.<? 
the final event of the whole contest, decided. 



LESSON XXL 1^.. '' 
Application. — Dodsley. 

1. Since the days that are past are gone for ever, and those 
that are to come may not come to thee ; it behoyeth thee, O 
man, to employ the present time, without regretting the loss of 
that which is past, or too much depending on that which is to 
come. 

2. This instant is thine ; the next is in the bosom of futurity, 
and thou knowest not what it may bring forth. Whatsoever 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 47 

thou resolves! to do, do it quickly ; defer not until evening 
what the morning may accomplish. 

3. Idleness is the parent of want and of pain ; but the labor 
of virtue bringeth forth pleasure. The hand of diligence de- 
feateth want ; prosperity and success are the industrious man's 
attendants. 

4. Who is he that hath acquired wealth, that hath risen to 
power, that hath clothed himself with honor, that is spoken of 
in the city with praise, and that standeth before the king in his 
council ? Even he that hath shut out idleness from his house ; 
and hath said to sloth — thou art my enemy. 

5. He riseth up early, and lieth down late ; he exerciseth 
nis mind with contemplation, and his body with action ; and 
preserveth the health of both. 

6. The slothful man is a burden to himself; his hours hang 
heavy on his head ; he loitereth about ; and knoweth not what 
he would do. His days pass away like the shadow of a cloud ; 
be leaveth behind him no mark for remembrance. 

7. His body is diseased for want of exercise ; he wisheth for 
action, but hath not power to move. His mind is in darkness ; 
his thoughts are confused ; he longeth for knowledge, but hath 
no application. He would eat of the almond, but hateth the 
trouble of breaking the shell. 

8. His house is in disorder ; his servants are vrasteful and 
riotous ; and he runneth on towards ruin ; he seeth it with his 
eyes ; he heareth it with his ears ; he shaketh his head and 
wisheth ; but hath no resolution ; until ruin cometh upon him 
like a whirlwind ; and shame and repentance descend*vvith him 
to the grave. 



LESSON xxn. 1 1 

The Shortness of Life. 

1. We see the grass fall by the mower's scythe, and the gay 
flowers that adorn the meadows, unregarded, swept av/ay. The 
g^een, the yellow, the crimson, the succulent, fall undistinguish- 
ed before the fatal instrument that cuts them off. They are 
scattered on the ground, and withered by the intense heat of the 
day. 

2. That blooming flower which stands the pride of the ver- 
dant field, glowing in beautiful colors, and shining with the dawn 
of the morning, ere the sun gains its meridian height, falls a 
sacrifice to the severing steel, and fades in the scorching rays of 

oon. 



48 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. Thus is it with human hfe — The thread is cut, and man 
falls into the silent tomb. Nothing can ward off the fatal stroke ; 
the aged, old and mfirm — manhood, in strength and vigor — 
youth, in bloom and beauty — the infant, weak and helpless, are 
without distinction swept away by the scythe of the great de- 
stroyer, Death. 

4. The active youth, who in the morning rises with health 
and vivacity, may at noon lie pale and motionless, at the feet of 
this ^reat victor ; and at the setting of the morrov/'s sun, be 
^consigned to the dark and lonesome mansions of the dead. 
Cities and nations are subject to the same fate. 

5. How soon is a flourishing town depopulated by a pestilen- 
tial disease. How soon is a nation cut olf by the raging of a 
direful war. 

" O ! that mine head were waters, and mine eyes 
*' Were fountains flowing like the liquid skies ; 
" Then would I give the mighty flood release, 
" And weep a deluge for the human race." 



LESSON xxin. 

The Faithful Greyhound. — M. D wight. 

L The story on which the following ballad is founded b 
traditionary. In a village at the foot of Snowdon,* Lewellyn 
the Great had a house. His father-in-law. King John, had 
jnade him a present of a hound named Gelert — a dog of extra- 
ordinary qualities, both in the family and in the chase. 

2. On one occasion he staid av/ay from the chase, as it 
would seem by instinct, that he might prove to be guardian of 
a young son of his master. On returning from the hunt, 
Lewellyn was met by Gelert, who fawned upon him, as usual, 
but was covered with blood. 

3. Alarmed at the spectacle, the master pressed cnvrard to 
the spot where his child's bed was placed, which he found 
overturned, and the covering and floor stained with blood, 
but no child to be seen. 

4. After calling with a frantic voice, but receiving no an- 
swer, believing that Gelert had destroyed him, he plunged his 
sword into the heart of the faithful animal, who cast a piteous 
look at his master, gave a single yell, and expired. 

♦ Snowdon, a mountiun in Wales, 3,571 feet high above the level of the 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOK. 49 

5. The dying cry of the dog aroused the infant, and Lewel- 
IjTi, hearing a noise, npon examining the bed-clothes which 
vvere lying near in a heap, he there found his son, who had just 
wakened from sleep, entirely safe and unhurt, while close by 
him lay the dead body of a hideous wolf, who had been killed 
by the faithful Gelert, while in the act of attempting to destroy 
the life of the child. 

6. Lewellyn was struck with horror at the spectacle be- 
fore him — after giving vent to his grief for the rash act of de- 
stroying the preserver of his son, he raised a splendid tomb 
over Gelert. The place still goes by the name of " Beth Ge- 
lert,^'' or Gelert's Grave. 

Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound. — ^W. Spencer. 

1. The spearman heard the bugle sound, 
And cheerly smiled the morn, 

And many a dog and many a hound 
Obey'd Lewellyn's horn. 

2. And still he blew a louder blast, 
And gave a lustier cheer, 

" Come Gelert, thou wert ne'er the last 
" Lewellyn's horn to hear. 

3. " Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam, 
" The flower of all his race ? 

" So true, so brave, a lamb at home, 
" A lion in the chase !" 

4» 'Twas only at Lewellyn's board 
The faithful Gelert fed ; 
He watch'd, he serv d, he cheer'd his lord. 
And sentinel'd his bed. 

5. In sooth he was a peerless hound. 
The gift of Royal John ;* 

But now, no Gelert could be found. 
And all the chase rode on. 

6. And iiow, as o'er the rocks and dells, 
The gallant chidings rise. 

All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells 
The many mingled cries. 

* John, king of England, A. D. 1199. 
6 



60 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

7. That day LewelljTi little loved 
The chase of hart or hare, 

And scant and small the booty proved— 
For Gelert was not there. 

8. Unpleased Lewellyn homeward hied ; 
When, near the portal seat, 

His truant Gelert he espied, 
Bounding his lord to greet. 

9. But when he gained his castle door, 
Aghast the chieftain stood ; 

The hound all o'er was smeared with gore, 
His lips, his fangs ran blood. 

10. Lewellyn gazed with fierce surprise ; 
Unused such looks to meet, 

His favorite checked his joyful guise, 
And crouched and licked his feet. 

11. Onward in haste Lewellyn past. 
And on went Gelert too, 

And still where'er his eyes he cast. 
Fresh blood drops shocked his view. 

12. O'erturned his infant's bed he found 
With blood stained covert rent ; 
And all around the walls and ground. 
With recent blood besprent. 

13. He called his child — no voice replied ; 
He searched with terror wild : 
Blcod, blood he found on every side. 
But no where found his child. 

14. " Vile brute ! my child by thee's devoured,' 
The frantic father cried, 

And to the hilt his vengeful sword 
He plunged in Gelert's side. 

15. His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, 
No pity could impart. 

But still his Gelert's dying yell 
Passed heavy o'er his heart. 

16. Aroused by Gelert's dying yell. 
Some slumberer wakened nigh. 
What words the parent's joy could tell, 
To hear his infant cry. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. &>: 

17. Conceal'd beneath a tumbled heap,' 
His hurried search had miss'd ; 
All glowing from his rosy sleep, 
The cherub boy he kiss'd. 

18. No wound had he, nor harm, nor dread; 
But the same couch beneath, 

Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead, 
Tremendous still in death. 

19. Ah, what was then Lewellyn's pain? 
For now the truth was clear ; 

His gallant hound the wolf had slain, 
To save Lewellyn's heir. 

20. Vain, vain was all Lewellyn's wo : 
Best of thy kind, adieu ! 

The frantic blow that laid thee low, 
This heart shall ever rue. 

21. And now a gallant tomb they raise, 
With costly sculpture deck'd ; 
And marble, storied with his praise. 
Poor Gelert's bones protect. 

22. There, never could the spearman pass. 
Or forester, unmoved ; 

There, oft the tear-besprinkled grass 
Lewellyn's sorrow proved. 

23. And there he hung his horn and spear. 
And there, as evening fell. 

In fancy's ear, he oft would hear. 
Poor Gelert's dying yell. 

24. And 'till great Snowdon's rocks grow old, 
And cease the storm to brave, 

The consecrated spot shall hold 
The name of " Gelert's Grave." 



LESSON XXIV. 

Mortality, — Barbauld. 

1, Child of mortality, whence comest thou? why is thy 
countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping ? — 
I have seen the rose in its beauty ; it spread its leaves to the 



52 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

morning sun. i returned : it was dying npon iU stalk ; the 
grace of" the form of it was gone : its loveliness was vanished 
away ; its leaves were scattered on the ground, and no one 
gathered them again. 

3. A stately tree grew on the plain ; its branches were cov- 
ered with verdure ; its boughs spread wide, and made a goodly 
shadow ; the trunk was like a strong pillar ; the roots were like 
crooked fangs. I returned '. the verdure was nipt by the east 
wind , the branches were lopt away by the ax ; the worm had 
made its way into the trunk, and the heart thereof was decayed ; 
it mouldered away and fell to the ground. 

3. I have seen the insects sporting in the sunshine, and dart- 
ing along the streams ; their wings glittered with gold and pur- 
ple ; their bodies shone like the green emerald ; they were more 
numerous than I could count ; their motions were quicker than 
my eye could glance. I returned : they were brushed into the 
pool ; they were perishing with the evening breeze ; the swal- 
low had devoured them ; the pike had seized them ; there were 
none found of so great a multitude. 

4. I have seen a man in the pride of his strength ; his cheeks 
glowed with beauty ; his limbs were full of activity ; he leaped ; 
he walked ; he ran ; he rejoiced in that he was more excellent 
than those. I returned : he lay stiif and cold on the bare 
ground ; his feet could no longer move, nor his hands stretch 
themselves out : his life was departed from him ; and the breath 
out of his nostrils. Therefore do I weep because DEATH is 
in the world ; the spoiler is among the works of God ; all that 
is made must be destroyed ; all that is born must die. 



LESSON XXV. i' 
Immortality. — Barbauld. 

1. I HAVE seen the flower withering on the stalk, and its 
bright leaves spread on the ground. — I looked again ; it sprung 
forth afresh ; its stem was crowned with new buds, and its 
sweetness filled the air. 

2. I have seen the sun set in the west, and the shades of 
night shut in the wide horizon : there was no color, nor shape, 
nor beauty, nor music ; gloom and darkness brooded around. — 
I looked : the sun broke forth again upon the east, and gilded 
the mountain tops ; the lark rose to meet him from her low nest, 
and the shades of darkness fled away. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 53 

3. I have seen the insect, being come to its full size, languish, 
and refuse to eat : it spun itself a tomb, and was shrouded in 
the silken cone ; it lay without feet, or shape, or power to 
move. — I looked again : it had burst its tomb ; it was full of 
life, and sailed on colored wings through the soft air ; it rejoic- 
ed in its new being. 

4. Thus shall it be with thee, O man ! and so shall thy life 
be renewed. Beauty shall spring up out of ashes, and life out 
of the dust. A little while shalt thou lie in the ground, as the 
seed lies in the bosom of the earth : but thou shalt be raised 
again ; and thou shalt never die any more. 

5. Who is he that comes to burst open the prison doors of 
the tomb ; to bid the dead awake ; and to gather his redeemed 
from the four winds of heaven ? He descends on a fiery cloud ; 
the sound of a trumpet goes before him ; thousands of angels 
are on his right hand. — It is Jesus, the Son of God ; the Saviour 
of men ; the friend of the good. He comes in the glory of his 
Father; he has received power from on high. 

6. Mourn not, therefore, child of immortality ! for the spoi- 
ler, the cruel spoiler-, that laid waste the works of God, is subdu- 
ed. Jesus has conquered death : child of immortality ! mourn 
no longer. 



LESSON XXVL ^ 

The End of Perfection. — Mrs. Sigourney. 

1. I HAVE seen a man in the glory of his days and the pride 
of his strength. He was built like the tall cedar that lifts its 
head above the forest trees ; like the strong oak that strikes its 
root deeply into the earth. He feared no danger — he felt no 
sickness — he wondered that any should groan or sigh at pain. 

2. His mind was vigorous like his bod}^ ; he was perplexed 
at no intricacy ; he was daunted at no difficulty ; into hidden 
things he searched, and what was crooked he made plain. 

3. He went forth fearless upon the mighty deep ; he survey- 
ed the nations of the earth ; he measured the distances of the 
-stars, and called them by their names ; he gloried in the extent 
of his knowledge, in the vigor of his understanding, and strove 
io search even into what the Almighty had concealed. 

4. And when I looked on him, I said, " What a piece of work 
is man ! how noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! in form 
and moving how express and admirable ! in action how like an 
angel I in apprehension how like a God !" 

5* 



64 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

5. 1 returned — his look was Ho more lofty, nor his steps 
proud ; his broken frame was like some ruined tower ; his hairs 
were white and scattered ; and his eye gazed vacantly upon 
what was passing around him. 

6. The vigor of his intellect was wasted, and of ail that he 
had gained by study nothing remained. He feared when there 
was no danger, and when there was no sorrow he wept. His 
memory was decayed and treacherous, and showed him only 
broken images of the glory that was departed. 

7. His house was to him like a strange land, and his friends 
were counted his enemies ; and he thought himself strong 
and healthful while he stood trembling on the verge of the 
grave. 

8. He said of his son — he is my brother ; of his daughter — 
I know her not ; and he inquired what was his own name. — 
And one who supported his last steps, and ministered to his 
many wants, said to me as I looked on the melancholy scene 
— " Let thine heart receive instruction, for thou hast seen an 
end of all earthly perfection." 

9. I have seen a beautiful female treading the first stages of 
youth, and entering joyfully into the pleasures of life. The 
glance of her eye was variable and sweet ; and on her cheek 
trembled something like the first blush of the morning ; her lips 
moved, and there was harmony ; and when she floated in the 
dance, her light form, like the aspen, seemed to move v/ith eve- 
ry breeze. 

10. I returned — ^but she was not in the dance ; I sought her 
in the gay circle of her companions, but I found her not. Her 
eye sparkled not there — th« music of her voice was silent — she 
rejoiced on earth no more. 

11. I saw a train, sable and slow paced, who bore sadly to 
an open grave what was once animated and beautiful. They 
paused as they approached, and a voice broke the awful silence : 
*' Mingle ashes with ashes, and dust with its original dust. To 
the earth, whence she was at first .taken, we consign the body 
of our sister." 

12. They covered her with the damp soil, and the cold clods 
of the valley ; and the worms crowded into her silent abode. 
Yet one sad mourner lingered, to cast himself upon the grave, 
and as he wept, he said, — " there is no beauty, or grace, or 
loveliness that continiieth in man ; for this is the end of all his 
glory and perfection." 

13. I have seen an infant with a fair brow and a frame like 
polished ivory. Its limbs were pliant in its sports ; it rejoiced 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 55 

and again it wept ; but whether its glowing cheek dimpled with 
smiles, or its blue eye was brilliant with tears, still I said to 
my heart, it is beautiful. 

14. It was like the first pure blossom which some cherished 
plant has shot forth, whose cup is filled with a dew drop, and 
whose head reclines upon its parent stem. 

1.5. I again saw this child when the lamp of reason first 
dawned in its mind. Its soul was gentle and peaceful ; its eye 
sparkled with joy, as it looked round on this good and plea- 
sant world. It ran swiftly in the ways of knowledge — it bowed 
its ear to instruction — it stood like a lamb before its teachers. 

16. It was not proud, or envious, or stubborn, and it had 
never heard of the vanities and vices of the world. And when 
I looked upon it, I remembered that our Saviour had said, 
•' Except ye become as little children, ye cannot enter into the 
kingdom of heaven." 

17. But the scene was changed, and I saw a man whom the 
world called honorable, and many waited for his smile. They 
pointed out the fields that were his, and talked of the silver and 
gold that he had gathered ; they admired the stateliness of his 
domes, and extolled the honor of his family. 

18. And his heart answered secretly, " By my wisdom have 
I gotten all this :" — So he returned no thanks to God, neither 
did he fear or serve him. And as I passed along, I heard the 
complaints of the laborers who had reaped down his fields, and 
the cries of the poor, whose covering he had taken away ; but 
the sound of feasting and revelry was in his apartments, and 
the unfed beggar came tottering from his door. 

19. But he considered not that the cries of the oppressed 
were continually entering into the ears of the Most High. And 
when I knew that this man was once the teachable child that 
I had loved — the beautiful infant that I had gazed upon with 
delight, I said in my bitterness, / have seen an end of all 
perfection. 



LESSON XXVII. 

The Two Bees. — Dodsley. 

1. On a fine morning in summer, two bees set forward in 
quest of honey, — the one wise and temperate, the other careless 
and extravagant. They soon arrived at a garden enriched 
with aromatic herbs, — the most fragrant flowers, — and the most 
delicious fruits. 



56 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

2. They regaled themselves with the various dainties that 
were spread before them ; the one loaded himself at inter- 
vals, with provisions for the hive against the distant winter ; 
the other revelled in sweets, without regard to any thing but his 
present gratification. 

3. At length they found a wide-mouthed phial, that hung 
beneath the bough of a peach tree, filled with honey ready tem- 
pered, and exposed to their taste in the most alluring manner. 
The thoughtless epicure, in spite of his friend's remonstrances, 
plunged headlong into the vessel, resolving to indulge himself 
in all the pleasures of sensuality. 

4. His philosophic companion, on the other hand, sipped a 
little, with caution ; but being suspicious of danger, flew ofl^ to 
fruits and flowers ; where, by the moderation of his meals, he 
improved his relish for the true enjoyment of them. 

5. In the evening, however, he called upon his friend, to 
inquire whether he would return to the hive : but he found him 
surfeited in sweets, which he was as unable to leave, as to 
enjoy. 

6. Clogged in his wings, — enfeebled in his feet, — and his 
whole frame totally enervated, — ^he was but just able to bid his 
friend adieu ; and to lament, with his latest breath — that though 
a taste of pleasure may quicken the relish of life, an unrestrain- 
ed indulgence leads to inevitable destruction. 



LESSON XXVIII. ^^ 

Heroism of a Peasant. 

\. A GREAT inundation having taken place in the north of 
Italy, owing to an excessive fall of snow in the Alps, followed 
by a speedy thaw, the bridge near Verona* was carried off" by 
the flood, except the middle part, on which was the house of 
the toll-gatherer, v/ho, Avith his whole family, thus remained im- 
prisonedby the waves, and in momentary danger of destruction. 

2. They were discovered from the banks, stretching forth 
their hands, screaming, and imploring succor, while fragments 
of this remaining arch were continually dropping into the wa- 
ter. In this extreme danger, a nobleman Avho was present, 
held out a purse of one hundred sequins,t as a reward to any ad- 
venturer who would take a boat and deliver the unhappy family. 

* Verona, a city in the northern part of Italy, now embraced in the Aus« 
trian empire, is situated on the river Adige. 

t Sequin, a gold coin of Venice and Turkey, valued at two dollars and 
twenty-one and a half cents. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 57 

3. But the risk was so great of being borne down by the 
rapidity of the stream, of being dashed against the fragments 
of the bridge, or of being crushed by the faUing stones, that not 
one among the vast number of spectators had courage enough 
to attempt such an exploit. A peasant passing along, was in- 
formed of the proffered reward. Immediately jumping into a 
boat, he, by strength of oars, gained the middle of the river, 
brought his boat under the pile, and the whole family safely 
descended by means of a rope. 

4. " Courage !" cried he, " now you are safe." By a still 
more strenuous effort, and great strength of arm, he brought 
the boat and family to the shore. " Brave fellow !" exclaim- 
ed the nobleman, handing him the purse ; " here is the promis- 
ed recompense." 

5. " I shall never expose my life for money," answered the 
peasant ; " my labor is a sufficient livelihood for myself, my 
wife and children. Give the purse to this poor family who 
have lost all." 



LESSON XXIX. ? 9 

Biographical Sketch of Major Andre. 

1. John Andre, Aid-de-camp to Sir Henry Clinton, and 
Adjutant-General of the British army in America, during the 
revolution, was born in England in 174L He was, in early 
life, a merchant's clerk, but obtained a commission in the army 
at the age of seventeen. Possessing an active and enterpris- 
ing disposition, and the most amiable and accomplished man- 
ners, he soon conciliated the esteem and friendship of his su- 
perior officers, and rose to the rank of Major. 

2. After Arnold* had intimated to the British, in 1780, his 
intention of delivering up West Pointf to them, Major Andre 

* Benedict Arnold, at the breaking out of the Revolutionary war, was a 
resident of New-Haven, Connecticut. He embraced with enthusiasm the 
cause of the colonies, and, on account of his daring courage, was promoted to 
the rank of Major-Geiicral ; but he was vicious, extravagant, cruel, vain, 
luxurious, and mean. Becoming displeased with the government, he basely 
resolved to deliver up West Point to the British, and turn traitor to his 
country. When Andre was taken, he escaped with difficulty, on board a 
British ship of war. He was made a Brigadier-General in the British army, 
and at the close of the war he went to England, and received 10,000/, ster- 
ling, as a reward of his villany. He died in London, 1801, detested by all 
who knew him. 

t West Point, a military post on the Hudson river, 58 miles north of the 
city of New- York. 



58 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

was selected as the person to whom the maturing of Arnold's 
treason, and the arrangement for its execution, should be com- 
mitted. A correspondence was for some time carried on be- 
tween them,, under a mercantile disguise, and the feigned names 
of Gustavus and Anderson ; and at length, to facilitate their 
communications, the Vulture sloop of war moved up the North 
River, and took a station convenient for the purpose, but not 
so near as to excite suspicion. 

3. An interview was agreed on, and in the night of Septem- 
ber 21, 1780, he was taken in a boat, which was despatched for 
the purpose, and carried to the beach without the posts of both 
armies, under a pass* for John Anderson. He met General 
Arnold at the house of a Mr. Smith. While the conference 
was yet unfinished, day-light approached ; and to avoid the 
danger of discovery, it was proposed that he should remain 
concealed till the succeeding night. 

4. He desired that he might not be carried within the Amer- 
ican posts ; but the promise, made to him by Arnold, to re- 
spect this objection, was not observed. He was carried within 
them contrary to his wishes and against his knowledge. He 
continued with Arnold the succeeding day, and when on the 
following night he proposed to return to the Vulture, the boat- 
men refused to carry him because she had during the day shift- 
ed her station, in consequence of a gun having been moved to 
the shore and brought to bear upon her. 

5. This embarrassing circumstance reduced him to the neces- 
sity of endeavoring to reach New- York by land. Yielding with 
reluctance to the urgent representations of Arnold, he laid aside 
his regimentals, which he had hitherto worn under his surtout, 
and put on a plain suit of cloaths, and receiving a pass from 
the American General, authorizing him, under the feigned 
name of John Anderson, to proceed on the public service to 
the White Plains, or lower, if he thought proper, he set out 
on his return. 

6. He had passed all the guards and posts on the road with- 
out suspicion, and was proceeding to New-York in perfect se- 
curity, when, on the twenty-third of September, one of the 
three militia men, who were employed with others in scouting 
parties between the lines of the two armies, springing suddenly 
from his covert in the road, seized the reins of his bridle and 
stopped his horse. 

* Pass, a written licence from one in authority, granting permission to * 
person to go from one place to another, without hindrance or molestation 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 59 

7. Instead of producing his pass, Andre, with a want of self- 
possession, which can be attributed only to a kind of providence, 
asked the man hastily where he belonged, and being answered 
*' to below," replied immediately, " and so do I." He then 
declared himself to be a British officer, on urgent business, and 
begged that he might not be detained. The other two militia 
men coming up at this moment, he discovered his mistake ; 
but it was too late to repair it. 

8. He offered a purse of gold, and a valuable watch, to which 
he added the most tempting promises of ample reward and 
permanent provision from the government, if they would permit 
him to escape ; but his offers were rejected without hesitation. 
The names of the militia men who apprehended Andre, were 
John Paulding, David Williams, and Isaac Vanwert, who, im- 
mediately after searching, carried him before their commander, 
Col. Jamieson. 

9. On the 29th of September, 1780, General Washington 
appointed a board of fourteen general officers, part of whom 
were General Green,* the Marquis de la Fayette,! and Baron 
de Steuben,t with the assistance of the Judge Advocate, John 
Lawrence. After the most mature deliberation they pronounc- 
ed Major Andre a spy from the enemy, and that agreeably to 
the laws of nations he ought to suffer death. 

10. When his sentence was announced to him, he remarked, 
that since it was his lot to die, as there was a choice in the mode, 
which would make a material difference in his feelings, he would 
be happy, if it were possible, to be indulged with a professional 
death ; but the indulgence of being shot rather than hanged was 

* Nathaniel Green, a Major-General in the army of the United States, 
during the war of the Revolution, was born in Warwick, Rhode-Island, 
1741. His bravery, skill, and services, were such as to merit the highest ap- 
probation of his country. He died in Georgia, 1786. 

t Gilbert Mottier, Marquis de la Fayette, was born in France in 1757. 
He descended from distinguished ancestors, and inherited a princely fortune. 
Such was his ardor in the cause of liberty, that, at the age of 19, he came to 
America, and joined the army under Washington. He was appointed a 
Major-General, and by his active and faithful services, he gained the esteem 
and affection of the whole American people. In 1834, he visited the United 
States, when he made a tour through the country, and was every where re- 
ceived with the highest marks of gratitude and respect. He returned to 
France in 1825. 

t Frederick William, Baron de Steuben, was a native of Prussia. He 
came to America in 1777, and volunteered his services in the cause of lib- 
erty. He was appointed a Major-General in the American army, and by 
liis knowledge of the military tactics of Europe, he rendered the most essen- 
tial service to the revolutionary army. He died at Steubenville, in the state 
ofNew-York, in 1794. 



eO NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

not panted, because it was considered contrary to the custom 
of war. 

11. When he was led out to the place of execution, he bowed 
familiarly to all those with whom he had been acquainted during 
his confinement ; a smile of complacency expressed the serene 
fortitude of his mind. — Upon seeing tlie preparations at the spot, 
he asked with some emotion, " must I die in this manner ?" — 
He was told it was unavoidable. " I am reconciled to my fate," 
said he, " but not to the mode." Soon after, however, recol- 
lecting himself, he added, " It will be but a momentary pang ;" 
and springing upon the cart, performed the last office to himself, 
with a composure that excited the admiration and melted the 
hearts of all the spectators. 

12. Being told that the fatal moment was at hand, and asked 
if he had any thing to say, he answered, " Nothing, but to re- 
quest that you will witness to the world that I die like a brave 
man." Thus died Major Andre, universally esteemed and 
regretted. 



LESSON XXX. ^^ '' 
The Miracle. — A German Parable. 

1. One day in spring, Solomon, then a youth, sat under the 
palm-trees, in the garden of the King, his father, with his eyes 
fixed on the ground, and absorbed in thought. Nathan, his 
preceptor, went up to him and said, " Why sittest thou thus, 
musing under the palm-trees ?" The youth raised his head, and 
answered, " Nathan, I am exceedingly desirous to behold a 
miracle." 

2. " A wish," said the prophet, with a smile, " which I en- 
tertained myself in'my juvenile years." "And was it granted ?" 
hastily asked the Prince. " A man of God," answered Nathan, 
" came to me, bringing in his hand a pomegranate seed. Ob- 
serve, said he, what this seed will turn to ! He thereupon made 
with his fingers a hole in the earth, and put the seed into the 
hole, and covered it." 

3. " Scarcely had he drawn back his hand, when the earth 
parted, and I saw two small leaves shoot forth — but no sooner 
did I perceive them than the leaves separated, and from between 
them arose a round stem, covered with bark, and the stem be- 
came every moment higher and thicker." 

4. " The man of God thereupon said to me, ' take notice !' 
And while I observed, seven shoots issued from the stem, like 



1 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 61 

the seven branches on the candlestick of the altar." " I was 
astonished, but the man of God motioned to me, and command- 
ed me to be silent, and to attend. Behold, said he, new crea- 
tions will soon make their appearance." 

5. " He thereupon brought water in the hollow of his hand 
from the stream which flowed past ; and lo ! all the branches 
were covered with green leaves, so that a cooling shade was 
thrown around us, together with a delicious odor. — " Whence," 
exclaimed I, " is this perfume amid the refreshing shade ?" — 
" Seest thou not, " said the man of God, " the scarlet blossom, 
as, shooting forth from among the green leaves, it hangs dov/n 
in clusters ?" 

6. " I was about to answer, when a gentle breeze agitated 
the leaves, and strewed the blossoms around us, as the autumnal 
blast scatters the withered foliage. No sooner had the blossoms 
fallen, than the red pomegranates appeared suspended among 
the leaves, like the almonds on the staves of Aaron. The man 
of God then left me in profound amazement." 

7. Nathan ceased speaking. " What is the name of the 
god-like man ?" asked Solomon, hastily. " Doth he yet live ? 
Where doth he dwell ?" '' Son of David," rephed Nathan, 
" I have related to thee a vision." When Solomon heard these 
words, he was troubled in his heart, and said, " How canst thou 
deceive me thus ?" " I have not deceived thee, son of David," 
rejoined Nathan. " Behold, in thy father's garden thou mayest 
see all that I have related to thee. Doth not the same thing 
take place with every pomxCgranate, and with the other trees ?" 

8. " Yes," said Solomon, " but imperceptibly, and in a long 
time." Then Nathan answered — " Is it therefore the less a 
divine work, because it takes place silently and insensibly ? 
Study nature and her operations ; then wilt thou easily believe 
those of a higher power, and not long for miracles wrought by 
a human hand." 



LESSON XXXI. :^ J # 

The Compassionate Judge. 

1. The celebrated Charles Anthony Domat was promoted 
to the office of a Judge of a provincial court, in the south of 
France, in which he presided, with public applause, for tv/enty- 
four years. One day a poor Avidow brought a complaint before 
him, agaiuLt the Baron de Nairac,* her landlord, for turning her 
out of possession of a farm wdiich was her whole dependence 
♦ Pronounced Bar-on de Na-rak. 
6 



63 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

2. Domat heard the cause ; and finding by the clearest evi- 
dence, that the woman had ignorantly broken a covenant in the 
lease, which empowered the landlord to take possession of her 
farm, he recommended mercy to the baron towards a poor hon- 
est tenant, who had notwillingly transgressed, nor done him any 
material injury. But Nairac being inexorable,* the judge was 
obliged to pronounce a sentence of expulsion from the farm, and 
to order payment of the damages mentioned in the lease, toge- 
ther with the costs of the suit. 

3. In delivering this sentence, Domat wiped his eyes, fron? 
which tears of compassion flow^ed plentifully. When the ordei 
of seizure, both of her person and effects, was decreed, the pooi 
woman exclaimed : " O just and righteous God ! be thou a 
father to the widow and her helpless orphans !" and immedi- 
ately she fainted away. 

4. The compassionate judge assisted in raising the distressed 
woman ; and after enquiring into her character, the num.ber of 
her children, and other circumstances, generously presented her 
with a hundred louis d'ors,t the amount of her damages and 
costs, which he prevailed with the baron to accept as a full 
recompense ; and the widow was restored to her farm. 

5. Deeply affected with the generosity of her benefactor, she 
said to him : " O, my lord ! when will you demand payment, 
that I may lay up for that purpose ?" " I will ask it," replied 
Domat, " when my conscience shall tell me I have done an im- 
proper act." 



LESSON XXXII. 

The Prudent Juds^e — an Eastern Tale. — Mass. Magazine. 



"h' 



1. A MERCHANT, who, ou accouut of busiuess, was obliged 
to visit foreign countries, intrusted to a dervis, whom he consid- 
ered as his friend, a purse, containing a thousand sequins, and 
begged hirri to keep it until he should return. At the end of 
one year, the merchant returned, and asked for his money ; but 
the deceitful dervis affirmed, that he had never received any. 

2. The merchant, fired with indignation at this perfidious 
behaviour, applied to the cadi.| " You have had more honesty 
than prudence," said the judge : *' you ought not to have plac^ 

* Pronounced In-ex'-o-ra-ble, 

t Pronounced lu'-e-dores, a gjld coin of France, valued at $4: 44 centSjOf 
II. sterling. _ , , 

t Cadi, a 1 urkish magistrate. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 63 

so much confidence- in a man, of whose fidehty you were not 
sufficiently assured. It ^vill be difficult to compel this cheat 
to restore a deposit which he received when no witnesses were 
present. Go to him again," added he, " address him in a 
friendly manner, without informing' him that I am acquainted 
with the affair, and return to me to-morrow at this hour." 

3. The merchant obeyed ; but, instead of getting his money, 
he received only abuse. While the debtor and creditor were 
disputing, a slave arrived from the cadi, who invited the dervis 
to pay a visit to his master. The dervis accepted the invitation. 

4. He was introduced into a grand apartment, received with 
friendship, and treated with the same respect as if he had been 
a man of the most distinguished rank. The cadi discoursed 
with him upon different subjects, among which he occasionally 
introduced, as an opportunity presented, the highest encomiums 
on the wisdom and knoAvledge of the dervis. 

5. When he thought he had gained his confidence by praises 
and flattery, he informed him that he had sent for him in order 
to give him the most convincingproof of his respect and esteem. 
" An affair of the greatest importance," says he, " obhges me 
to be absent for a few m.onths. I cannot trust my slaves, and 
I am desirous of putting my treasures into the hands of a man, 
who, like you, enjoys the most unspotted reputation. 

6. "If you can take the charge ofthem, without impeding your 
own occupations, I shall send you, to-morrow night, my most 
valuable effects ; but, as this affair requires great secrecy, I shall 
order the faithfulest of my slaves to deliver them to you as a 
present which I make you." 

7. At these words, an agreeable smile was diffused over the 
countenance of the treacherous dervis. He made a thousand 
reverences to the cadi ; thanked him for the confidence which 
he reposed in him ; swore, in the strongest terms, that he would 
preserve his treasure as the apple of his eye ; and retired, hug- 
ging himself with joy at the thoughts of being able to overreach 
the judge. 

8. Next morning, the merchant returned to the cadi, and 
informed him of the obstinacy of the dervis. " Go bar k," said 
the judge, " and if he persist in his refusal, threaten that you 
will complain to me. I think you will not have occasion to 
repeat your menace." 

9. The merchant immediately hastened to the house of his 
debtor, and no sooner had he mentioned the name of the cadi, 
than the dervis, who was afraid of losing the treasure that was 
about to be entrusted to his care, restored the purse, and said, 



64 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

smiling, " My dear friend, why should you trouble the cadi ? 
Your money was perfectly secure in my hands ; my refusal 
was only a piece of pleasantry. I was desirous of seeing how 
you would bear disappointment." 

10. The merchant, however, was prudent enough not to be- 
lieve what he had heard, and returned to the cadi, to thank 
him for the generous assistance which he had given him. 

11. Night approached, and the dervis prepared to receive 
the expected treasure ; but the night passed, and no slaves ap- 
peared. As soon as it was morning, the dervis repaired to 
the judge's house. " I am come to know, Mr. Cadi," said he, 
" why you have not sent your slaves, according to promise." 

12. " Because I have learned from a merchant," said the 
judge, " that thou art a perfidious wretch, whom justice will 
punish as thou deservest, if a second complaint of the same 
nature is brought against thee." The dervis, struck with this 
reproof, made a profound reverence, and retired with precipi- 
'ation, without offering a single word in his own vindication. 



LESSON XXXIII. 

The Fox and the Cat. 

1. The Fox and the Cat, as they travelled one day, 
With moral discourses cut shorter the way. 

'"Tis great (says the Fox) to make justice our guide !" 
" How godlike is merc)^ !" — Grimalkin* replied. 

2. Whilst thus they proceeded, a Wolf from the wood, 
Impatient of hunger, and thirsting for blood, 
Rush'd forth, as he saw the dull shepherd asleep, 
And seized for his supper an innocent Sheep. 

" In vain, wretched victim, for mercy you bleat, 
When mutton's at hand, (says the Wolf,) I must eat." 

3. Grimalkin's astonished — The Fox stood aghast, 
To see the fell beast at his bloody repast ; 

"What a WTctch (sings the Cat) — 'tis the vilest of brutes; 
Does he feed upon flesh, when there's herbage and roots?" 
Cries the Fox, "while our oaks give us acorns so good, 
What a tyrant is this to spill innocent blood !" 

4. Well, onward they march'd, and they moralized still, 

Till they came where some poultry pick'd chaff by a mill ; 

* Grimalkin, an old cat. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 65 

Sly Renard surveyed them with gluttonous eyes, 
And made (spite of morals) a Chicken his prize. 
A Mouse too, that chanc'd from her cover to stray, 
The greedy Grimalkin secured as her prey. 

5. A Spider that sat in her web on the wall, 

Perceiv'd the poor victims, and pitied their fall ; 
She cried—" of such murders how guiltless am I !" 
So ran to regale on a new taken Fly. 



The faults of our neighbors with freedom we blame, 
But tax not ourselves, though we practise the same. 



LESSON XXXIV. J ^ 

Might makes Right. 

1. A Sparrow perched upon a bough, 
Spied a poor beetle creep below, 

And picked it up. " Ah, spare me, spare ! — ^* 
The insect prayed : but vain its prayer. 
" Wretch !" cries the murderer, " hold thy tongue, 
For thou art weak, and I am strong." 

2. A hawk beheld him, and in haste. 
Sharpens his beak for a repast, 

And pounces plump upon him. " O," 
Exclaims the sparrow, " let me go." 
*'¥/retch !" cries the murderer, "hold thy tongue. 
For thou art weak, and I am strong." 

3. The hawk was munching up his prey. 
When a stout eagle steer'd that way. 
And seized upon him. " Sure, comrade. 
You'll spare my life — we'' re both a trade /" 

" Wretch !" cries the murderer, "hold thy tongue, 
For thou art weak, and I am strong." 

4. A sportsman saw the eagle fly, 

He shot, and brought him from the sky : 
The dying bird could only groan, 
" Tyrant ! what evil have I done ?" 
" Wretch !" cries the murderer, "hold thy tongue, 
For thou art weak, and I am strong." 
6* 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

5. 'Tis thus that man to man behaves ; 
Witness the planter and his slaves. 
'Tis thus that state oppresses state, 
And infant freedom meets its fate. 
" Wretch !" cries the stronger, " hold thy tongue, 
For thou art weak, and I am strong." 



LESSON XXXV. 2 i- 

The Lion and Bog. 

\. It was customary for those who were unable to pay six- 
pence for the sight of the wild beasts in the Tower, to bring a 
dog or a cat, as a gift to the beasts, in lieu of money to the 
keeper. Among others, a man had brought a pretty black 
spaniel, which was thrown into the cage of the great lion. — 
Immediately the little animal trembled and shivered, crouched, 
and threw itself on its back, put forth its tongue, and held up its 
paws, as if praying for mercy. 

2. In the mican time, the lion, instead of devouring it, turned 
it over with one paw, and then turned it with the other. He 
smelled of it, and seemed desirous of courting a further acquain- 
tance. The keeper, on seeing this, brought a large mess of his 
own family dinner. But the lion kept aloof, and refused to eat, 
keeping his eye on the dog, and inviting him, as it were, to be 
his taster. 

3. At length, the little animal's fears being somewhat abated, 
and his appetite quickened by the smell of the victuals, he ap- 
proached slowly, and, with trembling, ventured to eat. The 
lion then advanced gently, and began to partake, and they fin- 
ished their meal very quietly together. 

4. From this day, a strict friendship comm.enced between 
them, consisting of great affection and tenderness on the part ol 
the lion, and of the utmost confidence and boldness on the part 
of the dog ; insomuch that he would lay himself down to sleep 
within the fangs and under the jaws of his terrible patron. 

5. In about twelve months, the little spaniel sickened and 
died. For a time, the lion did not appear to conceive other- 
wise than that his favorite was asleep. He would continue to 
smell of him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn 
him over with his paws. 

6. But, finding that all his efforts to wake him were vain, he 
would traverse his cage from end to end at a swift and uneasy 
pace. He would then stop, and look *Swn upon him with a 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 67 

fixed and drooping regard ; and again lift up his head, and roar 
for several minutes, as the sound of distant thunder. 

7. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcase from 
him. He watched it continually, and would suffer nothing to 
touch it. The keeper then endeavored to tempt him with a 
variety of food, but he turned from all that was offered, with 
loathing. 

8. They then put several living dogs in his cage, which he 
tore in pieces, but left their members on the floor. His pas- 
sions being thus inflamed, he would grapple at the bars of his 
cage, as if enraged at his restraint from tearing those around 
him to pieces. 

9. Again, as if quite spent, he would stretch himself by the 
rem.ains of his beloved associate, lay his paws upon him, and 
take him to his bosom ; and then utter his grief in deep and 
melancholy roaring, for the loss of his little play-fellow, his 
late friend, the only companion of his den. 

10. For five days, he thus languished, and graduallj^ declined, 
without taking any sustenance or admitting any comfort, till, 
one morning, he was found dead, with his head reclined on the 
carcase of his little friend. They were both interred together. 



LESSON XXXVI. :i ■• 
Scene from. " the Poor Gentleman.''* 

SIR ROBERT, FREDERICK, AND HUMPHREY. 

Enter Frederick, hastily. 

Fred. O my dear uncle, good morning ! your park* is no- 
thing but beauty. 

Sir Rob. Who bid you caper over my beauty ? I told you 
to stay in doors till I got up. 

Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it. 

Sir Rob. And pray what made you forget it ? 

Fred. The sun. 

Sir Rob. The sun ! he's mad ! you mean the moon I be- 
lieve. 

Fred. O my dear uncle, you don't know the eflect of a fine 
spring morning upon a young fellow just arrived from Russia. 
The day looked bright, trees budding, birds singing, the park 
was so gay, that I took a leap out of your old balcony, made 
your deer fly before me hke the wind, and chased them all round 
the park, to get an appetite while you were snoring in bed, uncle. 

* Park, a large piece of ground enclosed, in which deer and other beasts 
of chase are kept. 



68 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Sir Roh. Oh, oh ! So the effect of En^hsh sunshine upon a 
Russian is to make him jump out of a balcony and worry my 
deer. 

Fred. I confess it had that influence upon me. 

Sir Rob. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, 
unless you think the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy. 

Fred. I hate legacies. 

Sir Roh. Sir, that's mighty singular. They are pretty solid 
tokens at least. 

Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle ; they are the posthu- 
mous despatches which affection sends to gratitude to inform 
us we hav^e lost a gracious friend. 

Sir Rob. Hoav charmingly the dog argues. 

Fred. But I own my spirits run away with me this morning. 
I will obey you better in future ; for they tell me you are a 
very worthy, good sort of old gentleman. 

Sir Rob. Now, who had the familiar impudence to tell you 
that ? 

Fred. Old rusty, there. 

Sir Rob. Why, Humphrey, you didn't ? 

Humph. Yes, but I did, though. 

Fred. Yes he did, and on that score I shall be anxious to 
show you obedience, for 'tis as meritorious to attempt sharing 
a good man's heart, as it is paltry to have designs upon a rich 
man's money. A noble nature aims its attentions full breast 
high, uncle ; a mean mind levels its dirty assiduities at the 
pocket. 

Sir Roh. {shaking him by the hand.) Jump out of every 
window I have in the house : hunt my deer into high fevers, 
my fine fellow. Ay, that's right, this is spunk and plain speak- 
ing. Give me a man who is always plumping his dissent to 
my doctrines smack in my teeth 

Fred. I disagree with you there, imcle. 

Humph. And so do I. 

Fred. You, you forward puppy ! If you were not so old 
I'd knock you down. 

Sir Roh. I'll knock you down if you do. I wont have my 
servants thump'd into dumb flattery ; I wont let you teach 'em 
to make silence a toad-eater. 

Humph. Come, you are ruflled. Let us go to the business 
of the morning. 

Sir Rob. I hate the business of the morning. Don't you 
see we are engaged in discussion. I tell you, I hate the busi- 
ness of the morning. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 69 

Humph. No, you don't. 

Sir Rob Don't I ? Why not ? 

Humph. Because it's charity. 

Sir Rob. Pshaw,* then. Well, we must not neglect the 
business, if there be any distress in the parish ; read the list, 
Humphrey. 

{Humphrey takes out a paper and reads.) " Jonathan Hug- 
gins of Muck Mead is put in prison." 

Sir Rob. Why, it was only last week that Gripe, the attor- 
ney,! recovered two cottages for him by law, worth sixty pounds. 

Humph. And charged a hundred for his trouble ; so seiz'd 
the cottages for part of his bill, and threw Jonathan into jail 
for the remainder. 

Sir Rob. A harpy ! J I must relieve the poor fellow's distress. 

Fred. And I must kick his attorney.. 

Humph, (reading.) " The curate's]] horse is dead." 

Sir Rob. Pshaw — there's no distress in that. 

Humph. Yes, there is, to a man that must go twenty miles 
every Sunday to preach, for thirty pounds a year. 

Sir Rob. Why won't the vicar§ give him another nag ? 

Humph. Because 'tis cheaper to get another curate ready 
mounted. 

Sir Rob. Well, send him the black pad%which I purchased 
»ast Tuesday, and tell him to work him as long as he lives. — 
What else have we upon the list ? 

Humph. Somewhat out of the common — there's one lieu- 
tenant Worthington, a disabled. officer, and a widower, come to 
lodge at farmer Harrowby's in the village ; he is, it seems, very 
poor, but more proud than poor, and more honest than proud. 

Sir Rob. And so he sends to me for assistance ! 

Humph. No, he'd sooner die than ask you or any man for 
a shilling ! there's his daughter, and his dead wife's aunt, and 
an old corporal that has served in the wars with him — he keeps 
them all upon half pay. 

Sir Rob. Starves them all, I'm afraid, Humphrey. 

Fred, {going.) Good morning, uncle.) 

Sir Rob. You rogue, where are you running now ? 

Fred. To talk to lieutenant Worthington. 

Sir Rob. And w^at may you be going to say to him ? 

* Pronounced shaw. t Pronounced at-tur'-ne. 

t Harpy, a fabulous winged monster, noted for its voraciousness and pol« 
lution. 

II Curate, a clergyman employed in the place of a vicar. 

§ Pronounced vic'-ar, the priest of a parish. ' ' . - -; 



70 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Fred. I can't tell 'till I encounter him, and then, uncle, 
when I have an old gentleman by the hand who is disabled in 
his country's service, and struggling to support his motherless 
child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honorable 
indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my 
sentiments. 

Sir Rob. Stop, you rogue, I must be before you in this 
business. 

Fred. That depends upon who can run fastest ; so start 
fair, uncle, and here goes — {runs out.) 

Sir Rob. Stop, stop ; why, Frederick — a jackanapes — to 
take my department out of my hands. I'll disinherit the dog 
for his assurance. 

Humph. No, you won't. 

Sir Rob. Won't I ? Hang me if — bw* we'll argue that poiut 
as we go. So, come along, Humphrey , \Exeunt. 



LESSON XXXVII. 

Scene between Captain Tackle and Jack Bowlin. 

Bowl, Good day to your honor. 

Capt. Good day, honest Jack. 

Bowl. To-day is my captain's birth-day. 

Capt, I know it. 

Bowl, I am heartily glad on the occasion. 

Capt. I know that too. 

Bowl. Yesterday your honor broke your sea-foam pipe. 

Capt. Well, sir booby, and why must I be put in mind of 
it ? it was stupid enough to be sure, but hark ye. Jack, all men 
at limes do stupid actions, but I never met with one who liked 
to be reminded of them. 

Bowl. I meant no harm, your honor. It was only a kind 
of introduction to what I was going to say. I have been buying 
this pipe-head and ebony-tube, and if the thing is not too bad, 
and my captain will take such a present on his birth-day, for 
the sake of poor old Jack 

Capt. Is that what you would be at — Come, let's see. 

Bowl. To be sure, it is not sea-foam ; but my captain must 
think, when he looks at it, that the love of old Jack was not 
mere foam neither. 

Capt, Give it here, my honest fellow. 

Bowl, You will take it ? 

Capt, To be sure I will. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 71 

Bowl. And will smoke It ? 

Capt. That I will {feeling in his pocket.) 

Bowl. And will not think of giving me any thing in return ? 

Capt. ( Withdrawing his hand from his jjocket.) No, no — 
You are right. 

Bowl. Huzza ! now let mother Grimkin bake her almond 
cakes out of her daily pilfcrings and be hanged. 

Capt. Fie, Jack ! ,, hat's that you say ! 

Bowl. The truth. I have just come from the kitchen, where 
she is making a great palaver about "her cake" and "her cake," 
and yet this morning she must be put in mind that it was her 
master's birth-day. Hang me, I have thought of nothing else 
this month. 

Capt. And because you have a better memory, you must 
blame the poor woman. Shame on you. 

Bowl. Please your honor, she is an old 

Capt. Avast ! * 

Bowl. Yesterday she made your wine cordial of sour beer, 
so to-day she makes you an almond cake of 

Capt. Hold your tongue, sir. 

Bowl. A'nt you obliged to beg the necessaries of life as if 
she were a pope or admiral ? and last year when you were bled, 
though she had laid uj) chest upon chest full of linen, and all 
your's if the truth w^as Known, yet no bandage was found till I 
tore the spare canvass from my Sunday shirt to rig your honor's 
arm. 

Capt. You are a scandalous fellow, {throws the pipe back 
to him,) away with you and your pipe. 

Bowl. {Looking attentively at his master and the pipe.^ 
I am a scandalous fellow ? 

Capt. Yes ! 

Bowl. Your honor will not have the pipe ? 

Capt. No ; I will take nothing from him who would raise 
his own character at the expense of another old servant. 

{Jack takes up the pipe and throws it out of the window.) 
What are you doing ? 

Bowl. Throwing the pipe out of the window. 

Capt. Are you mad ? 

Bowl. Why, what should I do with it ? You will not have 
it, and it is impossible for me to use it, for as often as I should 
puff away the smoke, I should think, " Old Jack Bowlin, what 
a pitiful scamp you m.ust be, a man whom you have served; 
honestly and truly these thirty years, and who must know you 
from stem to stera says you are a scandalous fellow," and tne 



■32 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

thought would make me weep like a child.' But when the pipe 
is gone, I shall try to forget the whole business, and say to my- 
self, " my poor old captain is sick, and does not mean what he 
gaid." 

Capt. Jack, come here. (Takes his hand.) I did not mean 
wliat I said. 

Bowl. {Shakes his hand heartily.) I knew it, I knew it. 
I have you and your honor at heart, and when I see such an 
old hypocritical bell-wether cheating you out of your hard 
earned wages, it makes my blood boil 

Capt. Are you at it again? Shame on you. You have open- 
ed your heart to-day, and given me a peep into its lowest hold. 

Bowl. So much the better ! for you v/ill then see that my 
ballast is love and truth to my master. But hark ye, m.aster, 
it is certainly worth your Avhile to enquire into the business. 

Capt. And hark ye, fellow, if I find you have told me a lie, 
ril have no mercy on you. I'll turn you out of doors to starve 
in the street. 

Bowl. No, captain, you won't do that. 

Capt. But I tell you I will, though. I will do it. And if 
you say another word I'll do it now. 

Bowl. Well, then away goes Jack to the hospital. 

Capt. What's that you say? hospital! hospital! you rascal! 
what will you do there ? 

Bowl. Die. 

Capt. And so you will go and die in an hospital, will you ? 
Why — why — you lubber, do you think I can't take care of 
you after I have turned you out of doors, hey ? 

Bowl. Yes, I dare say you would be v»dl]ing to pay my 
board, and take care that I did not VvT^nt in my old days, but I 
would sooner beg than pick up money so tlirov»-n at me. 

Capt. Rather beg ! there's a proud rascal ! 

Bold. He that don't love me must not give me money. 

Capt. Do you hear that ? Is not this enough to give a sound 
man the gout. You sulky fellow, do you recollect twenty years 
ago, when we fell into the clutches of the Algerines.* The 
pirates stripped me of my last jacket, but you, you lubber, 
Avho was it hid two pieces of gold in his hair, and who was it 
that half a year afterwards, when we were ransomed and turned 
naked on the world, shared his money and clothes with me ? 
Hey, fellow, and now you would die in a hospital. 

Bowl. Nay but captain 

* Algerines,' natives of Algiers, a city and government on the coast of 
Africa. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 73 

Capt. And when my ship's crew mutinied, at the risk of his 
life he disclosed the plot. Have you forgotten it, ycu lubber? 

Bowl. Well, and didn't you build my old mother a house for 
it? 

Capt. And when we had boarded the French privateer,* 
and the captain's hangerf hung over my head, didn't you strike 
off the arm that was going to split my skull! Have you forgot 
that too ? Have I built you a house for that ? Will you die in 
a hospital now — you ungrateful dog ! hey ? 

Bowl. My good old master ! 

Capt. Would you have it set on my tomb stone, "here lies 
an unthankful hound, who let his preserver and mess-mate die 
in a hospital," would you ? Tell me this minute you will live 
and die by me, you lubber, ! Come here and give me your hand I 

Bowl. {Going towards him.) My noble, noble master. 

Capt. Avast. Stand off, take care of my lame leg ; yet I 
had rather you should hurt that than my heart, my old boy. — 
[Shakes his hand heartily.) Now go and bring me the pipe. 
Stop, let me lean on you, and I will go down and get it myself, 
and use it on my birth-day. You would die in an hospital, 
would you, you unfeeling lubber? 



LESSON xxxvin. 

The Gentleinan and his Tenant. 

\. A COUNTRY gentleman had an estate of two hundred 
pound sj a year, which he kept in his own hands till he found 
himself so much in debt, that he was obliged to sell one half to 
satisfy his creditors, and let the remainder to a farmer for one 
and twenty years. 

2. Before the expiration of his lease, the farmer asked the 
gentleman, when he came one day to pay his rent, whether he 
would sell the land he occupied. " W^hy, Avill you purchase it ?" 
said the gentleman. " If you v\^ill part with it, and we can 
agree," replied the farmer. 

3. "That is exceeding strange," said the gentleman. "Fray, 
tell me how it happens, that I could not live upon twice as much 

* Privateer, a ship, or vessel of U'ar, owned and fitted out by a private 
man, or individuals, and commissioned by government to seize the ships of 
an enemy in war. 

t Hanger, a short broad sword. 

t A poxmd sterling is four dollars forty-four cents~-200 pounds is 888 
dollars. 

7 



74 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

land, for which I paid no rent, and that you, after regularly- 
paying me a hundred a year for the half, are able, so soon, to 
purchase it." 

4. " The reason is plain," answered the farmer. — " You sat 
still, and said. Go. I stood up, and said. Come. You lay in 
bed, and enjoyed your ease. I rose in the morning, and minded 
my business." 



LESSON XXXIX. ^ 
Dishonesty Punished. — Kane's Hints. 

1. An usurer,* having lost a hundred pounds in a bag, 
promised a reward of ten pounds to the person who should 
rest-«re it. A man having brought it to him, demanded the 
re-vxard. 

The usurer, loth to give the reward, now that he had got 
the bag, alleged, after the bag was opened, that there were a 
hundred and ten pounds in it, when he lost it. The usurer, 
being called before the judge, unwarily acknowledged iliat the 
seal was broken open in his presence, and that there were no 
more at that time than a hundred pounds in the bag. 

3. " You say," says the judge, " that the bag you lost had 
a hundred and ten pounds in it." " Yes, my lord." " Then," 
replied the judge, " this cannot be yovr bag, as it contained 
but a hundred pounds ; therefore the plaintiff must keep it till 
the true owner appears : and you must look for your bag 
where you can find it." 



LESSON XL. 

SOCRATEsf AND LEANDER. 

Disrespect to Parents, is in no case allowahle. 

1. Leander, the eldest son of Socrates, fell into a violent 
passion with his mother. Socrates was witness to this shame- 
ful misbehavior, and attempted the correction of it, in the fol- 
lowing gentle and rational manner. 

2. " Come hither, son," said he ; " have you never heard of 
men, who are called ungrateful?" "Yes, frequently," ansvvei-ed 

* Usurer, one who lends money, and takes unlawful interest. 

■f Socrates, the greatest of the ancient philosophers, wasbor?) at Athens in 
Greece, 467 B. C. He was unjustl}- condemned to death by the Athenians, 
on a charge of atheism, 400 B. C. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 75 

die youth. " And what is ingratitude ?'* demanded Socrates. 
" It is to receive a kindness," said Leander, " without making 
a proper return, when there is a favorable opportunity." 

3. "Ingratitude is therefore a species of injustice," said 
Socrates. " I should think so," answered Leander. " If, 
then," pursued Socrates, " ingratitude be injustice, does it not 
follow, that the degree of it must be proportionate to the mag- 
nitutie of the favors which have been received?" Leander 
admitted the inference ; and Socrates thus pursued his interro- 
gations : 

4. " Can there subsist higher obligations than those which 
children owe to their parents ; from whom life is derived and 
supported, and by whose good offices it is rendered honorable, 
useful, and happy?" " I acknowledge the truth of what you 
say," replied Leander ; " but who could suffer, without resent- 
ment, the ill humors of such a mother as I have?" "What 
strange thing has she done to you ?" said Socrates. 

5: "She has a tongue," replied Leander, "that no mortal 
can bear." "How much more," said Socrates, "has she en- 
dured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and incessant cries, m 
the period of infancy ! What anxieties has she suffered from 
the levities, capriciousness, and follies, of your childhood and 
youth I What affliction has she felt, what toil and watching has 
she sustained, in your illnesses ! These, and various other pow- 
erful motives to filial duty and gratitude, have been recognised* 
by the legislators of our republic. For if any be disrespect- 
ful to his iDarents, he is not permitted to enjoy any post of trust 
or honor. 

6. " It is believed that a sacrifice, offered by an impious 
hand, can neither be acceptable to Heaven nor profitable to the 
state ; and that an undulifiil son cannot be capable of perform- 
ing any great action, or of executing justice with impartiality. 
Therefore, ray son, if you be wise, you will pray to heaven to 
pardon the offences committed against your mother. 

7. " Let no one discover the contempt wdth which you have 
treated her ; for the world will condemn, and abandon you for 
such behavior. And if it be even suspected, that you repay 
with ingratitude the good offices of your parents, you will inevi- 
tably forego the kindness of others ; because no man will sup- 
pose, that 3^ou have a heart to requite either his favors or his 
friendship." 

Pronounced Rec'-og-nizd. 



76 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON XLI. ^/ 

SOCRATES AND DEMETRIUS. 

Brethren should dwell together in harmony. 

1. Tw") brothers, named Timon and Demetrius, having quar- 
relled with each other, Socrates, their common friend, was soli- 
citous to restore amity between them. Meeting, therefore, with 
Demetrius, he thus accosted him : " Is not friendship the sw^eet- 
est solace in adversity, and the greatest enhan^<^'"npiit of the 
blessings of prosperity ?" " Certainly it is," replied Demetrius ; 
" because our sorrows are diminished, and our joys increased 
by sympathetic participation." 

2. "Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend?" said 
Socrates. " Would you search among strangers ? They can- 
not be interested about you. Amongst your rivals ? They 
have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who 
are much older, or younger than yourself ? Their feelings and 
pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there not, 
then, some circumstances favorable, and others essential, to the 
formation of friendship ?" 

3. " Undoubtedly there are," answered Demetrius. " May 
we not enumerate," continued Socrates, " amongst the circum- 
stances favorable to friendship, long acquaintance, common 
connexions, similitude of age, and union of interest ?" " I 
acknowledge," said Demetrius, " the powerful influence of these 
circumstances : but they may subsist, and yet others be want- 
ing, that are essential to mutual amity." 

4. " And what," said Socrates, " are those essentials which 
are wanting in Timon ?" " He has forfeited my esteem and 
attachment," answered Demetrius, " And has he also forfeited 
the esteem and attachment of the rest of mankind ?" continued 
Socrates. " Is he devoid of benevolence, generosity, gratitude, 
and other social affections ?" " Far be it from me," cried Deme- 
trius, " to lay so heavy a charge upon him : his conduct to 
others is, I believe, irreproachable; and it wounds me the more, 
that he should single me out as the object of hisunkindness." 

5. " Suppose you have a very valuable horse," resumed 
Socrates, " gentle under the treatment of others, but ungovern- 
able, when you attempt to use him ; would you not endeavor 
by all means, to conciliate his affection, and to treat him in the 
way most likely to render him tractable ? Or, if you have a dog, 
highly prized for his fidelity, watchfulness, and care of your 
flocks, who is fond of your shepherds, and plaj'ful with them, 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. T7 

and yet snarls whenever you come in his way ; would you 
attempt to cure him of this fault by angry looks or words, or by 
any other marks of resentment ? You would surely pursue an 
opposite course with him. 

(5. " And is not the friendship of a brother of far more worth, 
than the services of a horse, or the attachment of a dog ? Why 
then do you delay to put in practice those means, which may 
reconcile you to Timon ?" "Acquaint me with those means," 
answered Demetrius, " for I am a stranger to them." " Answer 
me a few questions," said Socrates. 

7. " If you desire that one of your neighbors should invite 
you to his feast, when he offers a sacrifice, what course would 
you take ?" — " I would first invite him to mine." — " And how 
would you induce him to take the charge of your affairs, when 
you are on a journey?" — "I should be forward to do the same 
good office to him, in his absence." 

8. '* If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice, which he may 
have received against you, how would you then behave towards 
him ?" — " I should endeavor to convince him, by my looks, 
words, and actions, that such prejudice was ill founded." — • 
*' And if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, would you 
reproach him with the injustice he had done you?" "No," 
answered Demetrius ; " I would repeat no grievances." 

9. " Go," said Socrates, " and pursue that conduct towards 
your brother, \vhich you would practise to a neighbor. His 
friendship is of inestimable worth ; and nothing is more lovely 
in the sight of Heaven, than for brethren to dwell together in 
unity." 



LESSON XLn.<:_v 

The Dead Horse. — Sterne.* 

1. And this, said he, putting the remains of a crust into his 
wallet — and this should have been thy portion, said he, hadst 
thou been alive to have shared it with me. I thought by the 
accent it had been an apostrophe to his child ; but it was to his 
horse, and to the very horse we had seen dead in the road, 
v/hich had occasioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man 
seemed to lament it much ; and it instantly brought into my 
mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with more true 
^ouches of nature. 

* Laurence Sterne, an eminent writer, was born at Clomwell, in Ireland, 
1713. He died HBS, in London. 

7* 



78 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

2. The mourner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, 
with the horse's pannel and its bridle on one side, which he 
took up from time to time — then laid them down — looked at 
them, and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out 
of his wallet again, as if to eat it ; held it some time in his hand 
— thenlaid it upon the bit of his horse's bridle — looked wistfully 
at the little arrangement he had made — and then gave a sigh. 

3. The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and 
La Fleur among the rest, while the horses were getting ready ; 
as I continued sitting in the post chaise, I could see and hear 
over their heads. 

4. He said he had come last from Spain, w here he had been 
from the farthest borders of Franconia:* and had got so far 
on his return home, when his horse died. Every one seemed 
desirous to know what business could have taken so old and 
poor a man so far a journey from his own home. 

5. " It had pleased Heaven," he said, " to bless him v/ilh 
three sons, the finest lads in all Germany ; but having in one 
week lost two of them by the small pox, and the youngest fall- 
ing ill of the same distemper, he v, as afraid of being bereft of 
them all, and made a vow^ if Heaven would not take liim from 
him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Jago in Spain." 

6. When the mourner got thus far in his story, he stopped to 
pay nature her tribute — and wept bitterly. He said, " HeaiTn 
had accepted the conditions ; and that he had set out from his 
cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner 
of his journey — that it had eaten the same bread with him all 
the way, and was unto him as a friend." 

7. Every body who stood about heard the poor fellow vAih. 
concern. La Fleur offered him money — The mourner said he 
did not want it — it was not the value of the horse — but the loss 
of him — The horse, he said, he was assured loved him — and 
upon this told them a long story of a mischance upon their pas- 
sage over the Pyrenean mountains,! which had separated them 
from each other three days ; during Y*^hich time the horse had 
sought him as much as he had sought the horse, and that neither 
had scarce eat or drank till they met." 

8. " Thou hast one comfort, friend," said I, "at least, in the 
loss of thy poor beast ; I am sure thou hast been a merciful 
master to him." — "Alas!" said the mourner, "I thought so, 
when he was alive — but now he is dead, I think otherwise — 1 

* Formerly a province, or circle of Germany. 

t Py-re'-nc-»n mountains, between Frai;jce and Spain. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 79 

fear the weight of myself and my affiictions together have been 
too much for him — they have shortened the poor creature's 
days, and I fear I have them to ansv/er for." — " Shame on the 
world I" said I to myself — " Did we love each other, as this 
poor soul but loved his horse — 'twould be something." 



LESSON XLIII. ^ g> 
Biographical Anecdotes. 

1. An amiable youth lamented, in terms of deep and moving 
grief, the recent death of a most affectionate parent. His co'm- 
panions made an effort to console him by the reflection, that he 
had always behaved towards the deceased with duty, tender- 
ness, end respect. " So I thought,'''' replied tho^ youth, " while 
my parent was living, but nou> recollect with pain and sor- 
row, many instances of disobedience and neglect, for which, 
alas ! it is too late to make atonement." 

% Sir Isaac Newton* possessed a rem.arkable mild and even 
temper. This great man, on a particular occasion, was called 
out of his study to an adjoining apartment. A little dog named 
Diamond, the constant, but incurious attendant of his master's 
researches, happened to be left among the papers ; he threw 
down ahghted candle, M'hich consumed, in a moment, the almost 
finished labors of many years. Sir Isaac soon returned, and 
had the mortification to behold his irreparable loss. But, with 
his usual self-possession, he only exclaim.ed, O Diamond ! Dia- 
mond ! thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done. 

3. Queen Caroline having observed that her daughter, the 
princess, had made one of the ladies about her stand a long 
time, v/hile the princess was talking to her on some trifling 
subject, was resolved to give a suitable reprimand. Therefore, 
when the princess came in the evening to read to her, as was 
usual, and Avas drawing a chair to sit dov/n, the queen said to 
her, no, my dear, at present you must not sit ; for I intend to 
make you stand this evening as long as you suffered lady 
B to remain in the same position. 

4. The benevolent and immortal John Hov/ard,! having 
settled his accounts at the close of a particular year, and found 
a balance in his favor, proposed to his lady to employ it in 
defraying the expense of a journey to London, or any other 

* An English philosopher, born in 1G42, and died in 1727. 
+ A celebrated English philanthropist, born in 1726, and died 1790. His 
life was devoted to the work of discovering and reforming the evils of prisons. 



so NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

amusement which she might think preferable. " "What a prettv 
little cottage," she replied, " v/oiild this build for a poor family." 
This charitable hint met his cordial approbation, and the money 
was laid out accordingly. 

5. Horace, a celebrated Roman poet, relates that a country- 
man, who wanted to pass a river, stood loitering on the banks 
of it, in the foolish expectation, that a current so rapid would 
soon discharge its waters. But the stream still flowed, (in- 
creased perhaps by fresh torrents from the m.ountains,) and it 
must/o?* ever flow; because the source from which it is derived, 
is inexhaustible. — Thus the idle and irresolute youth trifles 
over his books, or squanders, in childish pursuits, his precious 
moments, deferring the business of improvemicnt, (which at 
first might be rendered easy and agreeable, but which, by de- 
lay, becomes more and more difficult,) until the golden sands 
of opportunity have all run, and he is called to action without 
possessing the requisite ability. 

6. Philip III. king of Spain, when he drcAv near the end of 
his days, (seriously reflecting on his past life, and being greatly 
affected by the remembrance of his misspent time.) expressed 
his deep regret in ihe following terms : "Ah, how liapjjy would 
it have been for me, had I spent, in retirement, and the im- 
provement of my mind, these tu-eniy-three years that I possess- 
ed my kingdom." 



LESSON XLIV. -' ■- 

The Revenge of a Great Soul. 

1. Demetrius Poliorcetes,* who had done singular ser\dces 
■for the people of the city of Athens, on setting out for a war 

in which he was engaged, left his wife and children to their 
protection. He lost the battle, and v/as obliged to seek secu- 
rity for his person in flight. 

2. He doubted not, at first, but that he should find a safe 
asylum among his good friends, the Athenians ; but those un- 
grateful people refused to receive him, and even sent back to 
him his v.ife and children, under pretence, that they probably 
might not be safe in Athens, where the enemy might come and 
take thera. 

3. This conduct pierced the heart of Demetrius; for nothing 
is so affecting to an honest mind, as the ingratitude of those we 
love, and to whom we have done singular services. Some time 

* Pronounced Dc-me'-tri-us Po-li-or'-ce-tees, a king of Macedon. He 
died 286 B. C. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 81 

afterwards, this prince recovered his affairs, and came with a 
larffe army to lay siege to Athens. 

4. The Athenians, persuaded that they had no pardon to 
expect from Demetrius, determined to die sword in hand, and 
passed a decree, which condemned to death those who should 
first propose to surrender to that prince ; but they did not re- 
collect that there was but little corn in the city, and that they 
would in a short time be in v/ant of bread. 

5. Want soon made them sensible of their error ; and, after 
having suffered hunger for a long time, the most reasonable 
among them said, " It would be better that Demetrius should 
kill us at once, than for us to die by the lingering death of 
famine. Perhaps he will have pity on our Vv ives and children." 
They then opened to him th» gates of the city. 

6. Demetrius having taken possession of the city, ordered 
that all the married men should assemble in a spacious place 
appointed for the purpose, and that the soldiery, svrord in hand, 
should surround them. Cries and lamentations were then 
heard from every quarter of the city; women embracing their 
husbands, children their parents, and all taking an eternal fare- 
well of each other. 

7. When the married men were all thus collected, Demetrius, 
for whom an elevated situation was provided, reproached them 
for their ingratitude in the most feeling manner, insomuch that 
he himself could not help shedding tears. Demetrius for some 
time remained silent, while the Athenians expected, that the 
next words he uttered would be to order his soldiers to m.as- 
sacre them all. 

8. It is hardly possible to say what must have been their 
surprise when they heard that good prince say, — " I wish to 
convince you how ungenerously you have treated me ; for it 
w^as not to an enemy you have refused assistance, but to a 
prince who loved you, who still loves you, and who wishes to 
revenge himself only by granting your pardon, and by being 
still your friend. Return to your own homes : while you 
have been here, my soldiers have been filling your houses with 
provisions," 

LESSON XLV. 4'-/ 
Death of Prince William.. — Goldsmith. 

1. Henry I.* king of England, had a son called William, a 
brave and active youth, who had arrived at his eighteenth year. 
* Henry I. commeflced his reign A. D. 1100, He died 1135. 



82 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

The Idng loved him most tenderly, and took care to have him 
recognized as his successor by the states of England ; and car- 
ried him over to Normandy, in the north of France, to receive 
the homage of the barons of that duchy. 

2. Having performed the requisite ceremony, the king set 
sail for England, accon:ipanied by a splendid retinue of the prin- 
cipal nobility. William, his son, was detained by some acci- 
dent, for several hours ; — and the crew having spent the inter- 
val in drinking, became so intoxicated, that they ran the ship 
upon a rock : and it was immediately dashed in pieces. 

3. The prince was put into a boat, and might have escaped 
had he not been called back by the cries of his sister. He pre- 
vailed upon the sailors to row back and take her in ; — but no 
sooner had the boat approached the wreck, than numbers who 
had been left, jumped into it, and the whole were drowned. 
King Henry, when he heard of the death of his son, fainted 
away, and from that moment, he never smiled again. 

He never smiled again. — Mrs. Hemans, 

1. The bark* that held a prince went down, 
The sweeping waves rolled on, 

• And what was England's glorious crown 

To him that wept a son ? 
He lived — for life may long be borne 

Ere sorrow break its chain ; 
Why comes not death to those who mourn ? 

— He never smiled again. 

2. There stood proud forms around his throne, 
The stately and the brave ; 

But which could fill the place of one ? 

That one beneath the Avave. 
Before him passed the young and fair, 

In pleasure's reckless train : 
But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair — 

— He never smiled again. 

3. He sat where festal bowls went round ; 
He heard the minstrelf sing ; 

He saw the tourney's^ victor crowned, 
Amidst the knightly ring. 

* Bark, a small vessel. 

t Minstrel, a singer and musical performer on instruments, 

t Pronounced tur'-ne, a martial sport or exercise. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. S3 

A murmur of the restless deep 

Was blent .with every strain ; 
A voice of winds that vv^ould not sleep— Jfe 

— He never smiled again. 

4. Hearts in that time closed o'er the trace 

Of vows once fondly pour'd ; 
And strangers took the kinsman's place 

At many a joyous board. 
Graves which true love had bathed with tears,. 

Were left to heaven's bright rain ; 
Fresh hopes were born for other years — 

— He never smiled asfain. 



LESSON XLVL V- '. 
The Shepherd and the Philosopher. 

1. Remote from cities liv'd a swain,* 
Unvex'd with all the cares of gain : 
His head was silver'd o'er with age, 
And long experience made him sage ; 
In summer's heat and winter's cold. 
He fed his flock and penn'd the fold ; 
His hours in cheerful labor flew, 

Nor envy nor ambition knew : 
His wisdom, and his honest fame 
Through all the country rais'd his name. 

2. A deep philosopher, Avhose rules 
Of moral life were drawn from schools. 
The shepherd's homely cottage sought, 
And thus explor'd his reach of thought. 

" Whence is thy learning ? Hath thy toil 
O'er books consum'd the midnight oil 1 
Hast thou old Greece and Rom.e survey' d. 
And the vast sense of Platof weigh'd ? 
Hath Socrates thy soul refin'd, 
And hast thou fathom' d Tully's| mind ? 

♦Swain, a shepherd. 

\ Plato, an illustrious Grecian philosopher — died at Athens, 348 B. C. 

t Marcus Tullius Cicero, one of the greatest men of antiquity, whether we 
consider him as an orator, a statesman, or philosopher. He was born at Ar- 
pinum, (now includtjd in the kingdom of Naples,) 107 B. C. He was bare- 
ly assassinated by order of Mark Anthony, 42 B. C, 



m NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Or, like the wise Ulysses,* thrown, 
By various fates, on realms unknown, - 
Hast thou through many cities stray'd, 
Their customs, laws, and manners weigh'd ?" 

3. The shepherd modestly replied, 
" I ne'er the paths of learning tried ; 
Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts. 
To read mankind, their laws and arts ; 
For man is practis'd in disguise, 

He cheats the most discerning eyes. 
Who by that search shall wiser grow ? 
By that ourselves we never know. 
The little knowledge I have gain'd 
Was all from simple nature drain'd ; 
Hence my life's m.axims took their rise, 
Hence grew my settled hate of vice. 

4. " The daily labors of the bee 
Awake my soul to industry. 
Who can observe the careful ant, 
And not provide for future want ? 
My dog (the trustiest of his kind) 
With gratitude inflames my mind. 
I mark his true, his faithful way. 
And in m}^ service copy Tray ; 
In constancy and nujjtial love, 

I learn my duty from the dove. 
The hen, who from the chilly air. 
With pious wing protects her care. 
And every fowl that flies at large, ( 
Instructs me in a parent's charge. 

5. " From nature too, I take my rule. 
To shun contempt and ridicule. 

I never, with important air, 
In conversation overbear. 
Can grave and formal pass for wise. 
When men the solemn owl despise ? 
My tongue within my lips I rein ; 
For who talks much, must talk in vain. 
We from the Vv^ordy torrent fly ; 
Who listens to the chatt'ring pief ? 

* A Grecian commander at the siege of Troy. 

t Pie, the magpie, a chattering bird resembling a crow. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 85 

Nor would I, with felonious flight,^ 
By stealth invade my neighbor's right. 

6. " Rapacious animals we hate ; ^ 

Kites, hawks, and wolves, deserve their fate.W 

Do not we just abhorrence find 

Against the toad and serpent kind ? 

But envy, calumny, and spite, 

Bear stronger venom in their bite. 

Thus ev'ry object of creation 

Can furnish hints to contemplation ? 

And from the most minute and mean, 

A virtuous mind can morals glean." 

7. " Thy fame is just," the sage replies, 
" Thy virtue proves thee truly wise. 
Pride often guides the author's pen, 
Books as affected are as men : 

But he, who studies nature's laws. 
From certain truth his maxims draws ; 
And those without our schools, suffice 
To make men moral, good, and wise." 



LESSON XLVIL (/ ]? ■ 
The Youth and the Philosopher. — ^Whitehead. 

1. A Grecian youth, of talents rare, 
Whom Plato's philosophic care 

Had formed for virtue's nobler view, 

By precept and example too, 

"Would often boast his matchless skill, 

To curb the steed, and guide the wheel ; 

And as he pass'd the gazing throng, 

With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong, 

The idiot wonder they express'd, 

Was praise and transport to his breast. 

2. At length, quite vain, he needs would show 
His master what his art could do ; 

And bade liis slaves the chariot lead 
To Academus'* sacred shade. 

* Arademus, a man who owned a place near Athens, surrounded with high 
trees, and adorned with spacious walks. Here Plato opened his school of 
philosophy, and from this, every place sacred to learning, has been callal 
Acadrrnui. 

8 



NATIONAL FUECEPTOR. 

The tren.bling grove confess' d its fright, 
The wood-nymphs started at the sight ; 
The muses drop the learned lyre, 
And to their inmost shades retire. 

3. Howe'er the youth with forward air. 
Bows to the sage and mounts the car. 
The lash resounds, the coursers spring, 
The chariot marks the rolling ring ; 
And gath'ring crowds, with eager eyes 
And shouts, pursue him as he flies. 

4. Triumphant to the goal* returned. 
With noble thirst his bosom burn'd ; 
And now along the indented plain 
The self-same track he marks again, 
Pursues with care the nice design. 
Nor ever deviates from the line. 
Amazement seiz'd the circling crowd ; 
The youths with emulation glow'd ; 
Ev'n beardedf sages hail'd the boy ; 
And all but Plato gaz'd with joy. 

5. For he, deep-judging sage, beheld 
With pain the triumphs of tlie field ; 
And when the charioteer drew nigh. 

And flush'd with hope, had caught his eye, 

*' Alas ! unhappy youth," he cry'd, 

" Expect no praise from me," and sigh'd. 

6. " With indignation I survey 
Such skill and judgment thrown away : 
The time profusely squandered there. 
On vulgar arts beneath thy care, 

If well employ'd, at less expense. 
Had taught thee honor, virtue, sense ; 
And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate 
To govern men and guide the state." 



LESSON XLVIII. / '^ 

Naval Action. 

1. Mr. Richard Hornby, of Stokesly, was master of a rrer- 
chant ship, the Isabella of Sunderland, in which he sailed from 
the coast of Norfolk for the Hague, June 1, 1774, in company 
with three smaller vessels recommended to his care. 

♦ Pronouncsd gole, a starting post. t Pronounced Beerd'-^d. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 87 

2' Next day tliey made Gravesend steeple, in the Hague ; 
but while they were steering for their port, the Brancas, a 
French privateer, that lay concealed among the Dutch fishing 
boats, suddenly came against them, singling out the Isabella, 
as the object of attack, while the rest dispersed and escaped. 

3. The strength of the two ships was most unequal ; for the 
Isabella mounted only four carriage guns and two swivels, and 
her crew consisted of only five men, three boys, besides the 
captain ; while the privateer, commanded by Captain Andre 
had ten carriage guns and eight swivels, v/ith seventy-five men 
and three hundred small arms. Yet Captain Hornby was nothing 
daunted. 

4. Having animated his little crew by an appropriate ad- 
dress, and obtained their promise of standing by him to the 
last, he hoisted the British colors, and with his two swivel 
guns returned the fire of the enemy's chase guns. The French- 
man, in abusive terms, commanded him to strike.* 

5. Hornby coolly returned an answer of defiance, on which 
the privateer advanced, and poured such showers of bullets into 
the Isabella, that the captain found it prudent to order his 
brave fellows into close quarters. While he lay thus shelter- 
ed, the enemy twice attempted to board him on the larboardf 
quarter ; but by the dexterous turn of the helm, he frustrated 
both attempts, though the Frenchman kept firing upon him 
both with guns and small arms. 

6. At two o'clock, when the action had lasted an hour, the 
privateer, running furiously in upon the larboard of the Isabella, 
entangled her bowsprit among the main shrouds, and was lash- 
ed fast to her. — Captain Andre now bawled out in a m^enacing 
tone, " You English dog, strike." Captain Hornby challenged 
him to come on board and strike his colors if he dared. 

7. The exasperated Frenchman instantly threw in twenty 
men on the Isabella, who began to hack and hew into close 
quarters ; but a general discharge of blunderbusses^ forced the 
assailants to retreat as fast as their wounds v/ould permit. The 
privateer, being now disengaged froih the Isabella, turned 
about and made another attempt on the starboard|! side, when 
the valiant Hornby and his m.ate, shot each his man, as the 
enemy were again lashing the ships together. 

* Strike, to let down the fiag or ensign, 
t Larboard, the left hand side of the ship. 

t Blunderbuss, a short gun, with a large, bore, capable of fholding a num- 
ber of balls. 

II Starboard, the right hand side of the ship. ;:^- 



88 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

8. The Frenchman once more commanded him to strike ; 
and the brave Enghshman returning another refusal, twenty 
fresh men entered, and made a fierce attack on the close quar- 
ters with hatchets and pole axes, with which they had nearly 
cut their way through in three places, when the constant fire 
kept up by Captain Hornby and his crew, obliged them a 
second time to retreat, carrying their wounded with them, and 
hauhng their dead after them with boat hooks. 

9. The Isabella continued still lashed to the enemy, the 
latter with small arms, firing repeated volleys into her close 
quarters ; but the fire was returned with such spirit and efi^ect, 
the Frenchman repeatedly gave way. 

10. At length Captain Hornby, seeing them crowding be- 
hind their mainmast for shelter, aimed a blunderbuss at them, 
which, being by mistake doubly loaded, containing twice 
twelve balls, burst in the firing, and threv/ him down, to the 
great consternation of his little crew, who supposed him dead. 

11. In an instant, however, he started up again, though 
greatly bruised, while the enemy, among whom the blunder- 
buss had made dreadful havoc, disengaged themselves from the 
Isabella, to which they had been lashed an hour and a quar- 
ter, and sheered off with precipitation, lea^ ing their grap- 
plings, and a quantity of pole-axes, pistols, and cutlasses be- 
hind them. 

12. The gallant Hornby now exultingly fired his two star- 
board guns into the enemy's stern. The indignant Frenchman 
immediately returned and renewed the conflict, which was car- 
ried on yard-ann and yard-arm., with great fury for tvv'o hours 
together. 

13. The Isabella was shot through her hull* several times, 
her sails and rigging were torn to pieces, her ensign Vv'as dis- 
mounted, and every mast and yard damaged ; yet she still 
bravely maintained the conflict, and at last, by a fortunate shot 
which struck the Brancas between wind and water, obliged her 
to sheer oflf and careen. f 

14. While the enemy were retiring, Hornby, and his little 
crew, sallied out from their fastness, and, erecting their fallen 
ensign, gave three cheers. By this time, both vessels had 
driven so near the English shore, that immense crowds had 
assembled to be spectators of the action. 

15. The Frenchman, having stopped his leak, returned to 
the combat, and poured a dreadful fire into the stern of the 

* Hull, the body of a ship, exclusive of her masts, yard.-, and rigging. 
t Careen, to lie on one side. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 89 

Isabella, when Captain Hornby Avas wounded by a ball in tho 
temple, and bled profusely. The sight of their brave comman- 
der, streaming with blood, somewhat disconcerted his gallant 
companions, but he called to them briskly to keep their courage 
and stand to their arras, for his wound was not dangerous. 

10. On this their spirits revived, and again taking post in 
their close quarters, they sustained the shock of three more 
tremendous broadsides, in returning which, they forced the 
Braiicas, by another well aimed shot, to sheer off. The huz- 
zas of the Isabella's crew were renewed, and they again set up 
their shattered ensign, which was shot through and through 
into honorable rags. 

17. Andre, who was not deficient in bravery, soon returned 
to the fight, and having disabled the Isabella, by five terrible 
broadsides, once more summoned Hornby to strike his colors. 
Captain Hornby turned to his gallant comrades. " You see 
yonder, my lads," pointing to the shore, "the witnesses of your 
valor." 

18. It was unnecessary to say more ; they one and all assur- 
ing him of their resolution to stand by him to the last ; and 
finding them thus invincibly determined, he hurled his final 
defiance at the enemy. 

19. Andre immediately run his ship upon the Isabella's star- 
board, and lashed close along side ; but his crew murmured, 
and refused to renew the dangerous task of boarding, so that he 
v/as obliged to cut the lashings, and again retreat. 

20. Captain Hornby resolved to salute the privateer with a 
parting gun ; and his last shot, fired into the stern of the Bran- 
cas, happening to reach the magazine, it blew up v.dth a terri- 
ble explosion, and the vessel instantly went to the bottom. 
Out of seventy-five men, thirty-six were killed or wounded in 
the action, and all the rest, together with the wounded, perished 
in the deep, except three, who were picked up by the Dutch 
fishing boats. 

21. This horrible catastrophe excited the compassion of the 
brave Hornby and his men ; but they could unfortunately 
render no assistance to their ill-fated enemies, the Isabella 
having become unmanageable, and her boat being shattered to 
pieces. 

22. Captain Hornby afterwards received from his sovereign, 
a large gold m.edal, in commemoration of his heroic conduct 
on this occasion ; conduct, perhaps, not surpassed by any thing 
in the annals of British naval prowess. 

8* 



90 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON XLIX. ^/ J 
Damon and Pythias. 

1. When Damon was sentenced by Dionysiiis, tyrant' of 
Sicily, to die on a certain day, he begged permission to retire, 
previous to his execution, to his own country, that he might 
set in order the affairs of his disconsolate family. 

2. This the tyrant intended peremptorily to refuse, by grant- 
ing it on what he conceived to be the impossible condition of 
his procuring some one to remain as security for his return 
under equal forfeiture of his life. 

3. Pythias, who was the friend of Damon, heard the condi- 
tions, and did not wait for an application on the part of the 
latter, but instantly offered to remain in his place ; which being 
accepted, Damon was im^mediately set at liberty. 

4. The king and all the courtiers were astonished at this 
action ; and, therefore, when the day of execution drew near, 
the tyrant had the curiosity to visit Pythias in his confinem.ent. 

5. After some conversation on the subject of friendship, in 
which the tyrant delivered it as his opinion, that self-interest 
was the sole mover of human actions; as for virtue, friendship, 
benevolence, patriotism, and the like, he looked upon them as 
ternis invented by the wise to keep in awe and impose upon the 
weak : — 

6. " My lord," said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble 
aspect, "i would it were possible that I might suffer a thousand 
deaths, rather than my friend should fail in any article of his 
honor ! He cannot fail therein, my lord ; I am as confident of 
his virtue as I am of my own existence. But I pray, I beseech 
the gods, to preserve the life and the integrity of Damon 
together. 

7. " Oppose him, ye winds ! prevent the eagerness and im- 
patience of his honorable endeavors, and suffer hira not to ar- 
rive, till, by my death, I have redeemed a life a thousand times 
more valuable than my own; more estim.able to his lovely 
wife, to his innocent children, to his friends, and to his coun- 
try. O leave me not to die the worst of deaths in that of my 
friend!" 

8. Dionysius was awed and confounded by the dignity of 
these sentiments, and by the manner in which they were utter- 
ed : he feU his heart struck by a slight sense of invading truth ; 
but it served rather to perplex than to undeceive him. 

9. The fatal day arrived : Pythias was brought forth, and 
walked amidst the guards, with a serious but satisfied air, to the 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 91 

place of execution. Dionysius was already there ; he was 
exalted on a moving throne, drawn by six white horses, and sat 
pensive and attentive to the prisoner. 

10. Pythias came ; he vaulted* lightly on the scaffold, and 
beholding for a time the apparatus of death, he turned with a 
placid countenance, and thus addressed the spectators : — " My 
prayers are heard ; the gods are propitious ; you know, my 
friends, that the winds have been contrary till yesterday. — 
Damon could not come ; he could not conquer impossibilities ; 
he will be here to-morrow, and the blood which is shed to-day 
shall have ransomed the life of my friend. 

1 i. " O ! could I erase from your bosom.s every doubt, every 
mean suspicion of the honor of the man for whom I am about 
to suffer, I should go to ray death with as much joy as to a 
marriage feast. Be it sufficient, in the mean timie, that my 
friend will be found noble ; that his truth is unimpeachable ; 
that he will speedily prove it ; that he is now on his v/ay 
hurrying forvrartl, accusing himself, the adverse elements, and 
fortune ; but I haste to prevent his speed : — Executioner ! 
perform your duty." 

12. As he pronounced the last word, a buzz began to rise 
among the remotest of the people ; a distant voice was heard ; 
the crowd caught the words, and " Stop, stop the execution," 
v/as repeated by the whole assembly. 

13. A man came at full speed ; tlie throng gave Avay to his 
approach ; he was mounted on a courser that almost flew ; in 
an instant, he was off his horse, — on the scaffold, — and in the 
anns of Pythias. 

14. " You are safe," he cried, " my friend, my dearest 
friend ! the gods be praised, you are safe ! I now have nothing 
but death to suffer, and am delivered from the anguish of those 
reproaches which I gave myself for having endangered a life 
so much dearer than my own." 

15. Pale, cold, and half speechless in the arms of his Damon, 
Pythias replied in broken accents — " Fatal haste ! — Cruel im- 
patience ! — What envious powers have wrought impossibilities 
in your favor ? But I will not be wholly disappointed. Since 
1 cannot die to save, I will not survive you." 

16. Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with aston- 
ishm.ent. His heart was touched : he wept, and leaving his 
throne, he ascended the scaffold. 

* Vaulted, leaped. 



92 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

17. " LivG, live, ye incomparable pair !" he cried ; "Ye have 
borne unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue ; and 
that virtue equally evinces the existence of a God to reward it. 
Live happy ; live renowned ; and, O, form me by your pre- 
cepts, as ye have instructed me by your example, to be u^orthy 
the participation of so sacred a friendship." 



LESSON L. J'-O 

Test of Goodness, 

1. Real goodness consists in doing good to our enemies. — - 
Of this truth the following apologue* may serve for an illustra- 
tion. A certain father of a family, advanced in years, being 
desirous of settling his worldly matters, divided his property 
between his three sons. 

2. " Nothing nov/ remains," said he to them, " but a dia- 
mond of great value ; this I have determined to appropriate to 
whichever of you shall, within three months, perform the best 
action." 

3. His three sons accordingly departed different ways, and 
returned by the limited time. On presenting themselves before 
their judge, the eldest thus began. 

4. " Father," said he, " during my absence, I found a stran- 
ger so circumstanced, that he w^as under a necessity of entrust- 
ing me with the whole of his fortune. He had no written se-" 
curity from me, nor could he possibly bring any proof, any 
evidence whatever of the deposit. Yet I faithfully returned to 
him every shilling. Was there not something com^mendable 
in this action ?" 

5. " Thou hc'=;t done what was incumbent upon thee to do, 
my son," replied the old man. " The man w^ho could have 
acted otherwise were unworthy to live : for honesty is a duty ; 
thy action is an action of justice, not of goodness." 

6. On this, the second son advanced. " In the course of ray 
travels," said he, " I came to a lake in which I beheld a child 
struggling with death ; I plunged into it and saved his life in 
the presence of a number of the neighboring villagers, all of 
whom, can attest the truth of what I assert." 

7. " It was wxll done, "interrupted the old man ; " you have 
only obeyed the dictates of humanity." At length the young- 
est of the three came forward. 

* Pronounced ap-o-log, a moral story or fable, intended to convey osefnl 
truths. 



NATIONAL PRECErXOR. 93 

8. " I happened," said he, " to meet my mortal enemy, who, 
having bewildered himself in the dead of nig-ht, had impercep- 
tibly fallen asleep upon the brink of a frightful precipice. The 
least motion would infallibly have plunged him headlong into 
the abyss ; and though his life was in my hands, yet with every 
necessary precaution, I awaked him, and removed him from his 
danger." 

9. " Ah, my son !" exclaimed the venerable good man with 
transport, while he pressed him to his heart ; " to thee belongs 
the diamond ; well hast thou deserved it." 



LESSON LI. ' ^ 
The mysterious Stranger. — Jane Taylor. 

1. In a remote period of antiquity, when the supernatural 
and the marvellous obtained a readier credence than now, it was 
fabled that a stranger of extraordinary appearance was observed 
passing the streets of one of the magnificent cities of the east, 
remarking with an eye of intelligent curiosity every surrounding 
object. 

2. Several individuals gathering around him, questioned him 
concerning his country and his business; but they presently 
perceived that he was unacquainted with their language, and 
he soon discovered himself to be equally ignorant of the most 
com.mon usages of society. At the same time, the dignity and 
intelligence of his air and demeanor forbade the idea of his 
being either a barbarian or a lunatic. 

3. When at length he understood by their signs, that they 
wished to be informed whence he came, he pointed with great 
significance to the sky ; upon which the crowd, concluding him 
to be one of their deities, were proceeding to pay him divine 
honors ; but he no sooner comprehended their design, than he 
rejected it with horror ; and, bending his knees and raising his 
hand toward heaven, in the attitude of prayer, gave them to 
understand that he also was a worshipper of the powers above. 

4. After a time, it is said, the mysterious stranger accepted 
the hospitalities of one of the nobles of the city ; under whose 
roof he applied himself with great diligence to the acquirement 
of the language, in which he made such surprising proficiency, 
that, in a few days, he was able to hold intelligent intercourse 
with those around him. 

5. The noble host now resolved to take an early opportunity^ 
of satisfying his curiosity respecting the country and quality of 



94 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

his guest ; and, upon his expressing this desire, the stranger 
assured him that he Avould answer his enquiries that evenino- 
after sun-set. Accordingly, as night approached, he led him 
forth upon the balconies of the palace, which overlooked the 
wealthy and populous city. 

6. Innumerable lights from its busy streets and splendid 
palaces were now reflected in the dark bosom of its noble river; 
v/liere stately vessels, laden with rich merchandise from ail parts 
of the known world, lay anchored in the port. This was a city 
in which the voice of the harp and the viol, and the sound of the 
mill-stone, were continually heard — and craftsmen of all kinds 
of craft were there — and the light of a candle was seen in every 
dwelling — and the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the 
bride were heard there. 

7. The stranger mused awhile upon the glittering scene; 
and listened to the confused murmur of mingling sounds. Then 
suddenly raising his eyes to the starry firmament, he fixed them 
with an expressive gaze on the beautiful evening star which was 
just sinking behind a dark grove that surrounded one of the 
principal tem.ples of the city. " Marvel not," said he to his 
host, " that I am wont to gaze with fond affection on yon 
silvery star. 

8. " That was my homie — yes, I was lately an inhabitant of 
that tranquil planet ; from whence a vain curiosity has tempted 
me to w^ander. Often had I beheld, with wondering admira- 
tion, this brilliant world of yours, even one of the brightest 
gems of our firmament — and the ardent desire I had long felt 
to know something of its condition, was at length unexpectedly 
gratified. I received permission and power from above to 
traverse the mighty void, and to direct my course to this distant 
sphere. 

9. " To that permission, however, one condition was annexed, 
to which my eagerness for the enterprise induced me hastily to 
consent — namely, that I must thenceforth remain an inhabitant 
of this strange earth, and undergo all the vicissitudes to which 
its natives are subject. Tell me, -therefore, I pray you, what 
is the lot of man — and explain to me more fally than I yet 
understand, all that I hear and see around m.e." 

10. " Truly, sir," replied the astonished noble, "although I 
am altogether unacquainted with tlie manners and customs, 
products and privileges of your country, yet, m'ethinks, I cannot 
but congratulate you on your arrival in oin- Avorld ; especially 
since it has been your good fortune to alight on a part of it 
affording such various sources of enjoyment as this our opulent 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 95 

and luxuriant city. And be assured it will be my pride and 
pleasure to introduce you to all that is most worthy the atten- 
tion of such a distinguished foreigner." 

11. Our adventurer, accordingly, was presently initiated into 
those arts of luxury and pleasure which were there well under- 
stood. He was introduced by his obhging host to their public 
games and festivals — to their theatrical diversions and convivial 
assemblies ; and in a short time he began to feel some relish for 
amusements, the meaning of which, at iir&t, he could scarcely 
comprehend. 

12. The next lesson which it became desirable to im.part to 
him, was the necessity of acquiring wealth, as the only means 
of obtaining pleasure. A fact which was no sooner understood 
by the stranger, than he gratefully accepted the offer of his 
friendly host to place him in a situation in which he might 
amass riches. 

13. To this object he began to apply himself with diligence ; 
and was becoming in some measure reconciled to the manners 
and customs of our planet, strangely as they differed from those 
of his own, when an incident occurred which gave an entirely 
new direction to his energies. It was but a few weeks after his 
arrival on our earth, when, walking in the cool of the day with 
his friend, in the outskirts of the city, his attention was arrested 
by the appearance of a spacious enclosure near which they 
passed. — He inquired the use to which it was appropriated. 

14. " It is," replied the nobleman, " a place of public inter- 
ment." " I do not understand you," said the stranger. "It is 
the place," repeated his friend, " where we bury our dead." 
" Excuse me, sir," replied his companion, with some embarrass- 
ment. " I must trouble you to explain yourself yet further." 
The nobleman repeated the information in still plainer terms. 
" I am still at a loss to comprehend you perfectly," said the 
stranger, turning deadly pale. " This must relate to something 
of which I was not only totally ignorant in my own world, but 
of which I have, as yet, had no intimation in yours. 

15. " I pray you, therefore, to satisfy my curiosity ; for if I 
have any clue to your meaning, this, surely, is a matter of more 
mighty concernment than any to which you have hitherto direct- 
ed me." " My good friend," replied the nobleman, "you must 
be indeed a novice among us, if you have yet to learn that we 
must all, sooner or later, submit to take our place in these dismal 
abodes. 

16. " Nor will I deny that it is one of the least desirable of 
the circumstances which appertain to our condition ; for which 



96 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

reason it is a inatter rarely referred to in polished society ; and 
this accounts for your being hitherto uninformed on the subject. 
But truly, sir, if the inhabitants of the place from whence you 
came are not liable to any similar misfortune,^ I advise you to 
betake yourself back again with all speed ; for be assured there 
is no escape here — nor could I guaranty your safety even for a 
single hour !" 

17. '• Alas !" replied the adventurer, " I must submit to the 
conditions of my enterprise, of which, till now, I little under- 
stood the import. But explain to me, I beseech you, something 
more of the nature and consequence of this wondrous change, 
and tell me at what period it commonly happens to man." — 
While he thus spoke, his voice faltered, and his whole frame 
shook violently ; his countenance was as pale as death. 

18. By this time his companion, finding the discourse becom- 
ing more serious than was agreeable, declared he must refer him 
-to the priests for further information, this subject being very 
much out of his province. " How !" exclaimed the stranger, 
" then I cannot have understood you. Do the priests only die? 
are not you to die also ?" 

19. His friend, evading these questions, hastily conducted 
his importunate companion to one of their magnificent temples, 
where he gladly consigned him to the instructions of the priest- 
hood. The emotion which the stranger had betrayed, when 
he received the first idea of death, was yet slight in comparison 
with that which he experienced as soon as he gathered, from the 
discourses of the priests, some notions ofimm.ortality, and of the 
alternative of happiness or misery in a future state. 

20. But this agony of mind was exchanged for transport, 
when he learned that, by the performance of certain oonditions 
before death, the state of happiness might be secured. His 
eagerness to learn the nature of these terms, excited the surprise 
and even the contempt of his sacred teachers. They advised 
him to remain satisfied for the present with the instructions he 
had received, and defer the remainder of the discussion till 
to-morrow. 

21. " How !" exclaimed the novice, " say ye not that death 
may come at any hour ? may it not come this hour ? and what 
if it should come before I have performed these conditions ? O ! 
withhold not the excellent knowledge from m.e a single mo- 
ment!" The priests, suppressing a smile at this simplicity, then 
proceeded to explain their theology to their attentive auditor. 

22. But who can describe the ecstasy of his happiness, v.'lien 
he was given to understand the required conditions were, gene- 



NATlOxNAL PRECEPTOR. 97 

rally, of easy and pleasant performance, and the occasional 
difficulties, which might attend them, would entirely cease with 
the short term of his earthly existence. "If, then, I understand 
you rightly," said he to his instructors, " this event which you 
call death, and which seems in itself strangely terrible, is n:ost 
desirable and blissful. 

23. " What a favor is this which is granted to me, in being 
sent to inhabit a planet in which I can die !" The priests again 
exchanged smiles with each other; but their ridicule was wholly 
lost on the ei I'aptured stranger. When the first transports of 
his emotion had subsided, he began to refxcct ^vith moie un- 
easiness on the tinie he had already lost since his arrival. 

24. " Alas ! what have I been doing?" exclaimed he. " This 
gold which I have been collecting, tell me, reverend priests, 
will it avail me any thing when the thirty or forty years are ex- 
pired, which you say, I may possibly sojourn in your planet ?" 
"Nay," replied the priests, "but verily you will find it of ex- 
cellent use so long as you remain in it." 

25. " A very little of it shall sufiice me," replied he; " for 
consider how soon this period will be past. What avails it 
what my condition may be for so short a season ? I will betake 
myself from this hour, to the grand concerns of which you 
have so charitably informed me." 

26. Accordingly, from that period, continues the legend, the 
stranger devoted himself to the performance of those conditions 
on which, he was told, his future welfare depended — but, in so 
doing, he had an opposition to encounter wholly unexpected, 
and for which he was even at a loss to account. 

27. By thus devoting his chief attention to his chief interests, 
he excitad the surprise, the contempt, and even the enmity of 
most of the inhabitants of the city ; and they rarely mentioned 
him but with a term of reproach, which has been variously ren- 
dered in all the modern languages. Nothing could equal the 
stranger's surprise at this circumstance ; as well as that of his 
fellow-citizens appearing, generally, so extremely indifierent 
as they did, to their own interests. 

28. That they should have so little prudence and forethought 
as to provide only for their necessities and pleasures for that 
short part of their existence in which they were to remain on 
this planet, he could consider as the efiect of disordered intel- 
lect : so that he even returned their incivilities to himself with 
affectionate expostulation, accompanie;^ by lively emotions of 
compassion and amazement, 





98 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

29. If ever lie was tempted for a monient to violate any of 
the conditions of hv3 future happiness, he bewailed his own 
madness with agonizing emotions; and to all the invitations ne 
received from others to do any thing inconsistent with his real 
inter 3sts, he had but one answer — "Oh," he would say, "I 
am to die— I am to die." 



LESSON LII. S ^ 

Earthquake in Calabria. — Goldsmith. 

1. In 1638, the celebrated father Kircher, and four others, 
were on a journey to visit Mount ^tna, and the wonders in 
Calabria, the southern extremity of Italy. Having hired a 
boat, they left Messina in Sicily, for Eupheraia a city in Ca- 
labria. Having crossed the strait, they landed at the pro- 
montory pf Peiorus, where they were detained, for some time, 
by bad weather. 

2. At length, wearied by delay, they resolved to prosecute 
their voyage. .But scarcely had they quitted the shore, when 
all nature seemed to be in motion, and although the air wns 
calm and serene, the sea became violently agitated, covered 
■vnth bubbles — the gulf of Cbarybdis* seemed whirled round in 
an unusual manner, — Mount JEtna sent forth vast v jlumes of 
smoke — and Strotobolif belched forth flames, with a noise like 
peals of thunder. 

3. Alarmed for their safety, they rowed with all possible 
haste for the shore; — but no sooner had they landed, than their 
ears were stunned with a horrid sound, resembling that of an 
infinite number of carriages driven fiercely forward, — wheels 
rattling, and thongsj: crackling. This was followed by a most 
dreadful earthquake, which shook the place so violently, that 
they were thrown prostrate on the ground. This paroxysm 
having ceased, they started for Euphemia, which lay within 
sight, — but looking towards the city, they perceived a frightful 
dark cloud resting upon the place. Having waited until the 
cioud had passed away, — wonderful to tell, — no city was there ; 
— it had totally sunk; — and in its place a dismal and putrid 
lake was seen. All was a melancholy solitude, — a scene of 
hideou.^ desolation. 

* Charybdis, a dangerous whirlpool on the coast of Sicily, 
•f Stroxnboli, an island in the Tuscan sea, belonging to Sicily. On it is a 
volcano. 

t Thong, a strap of leather, used as a whip. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 99 

4. Proceeding pensively along, in search of some human 
being for information, they perceived a boy sitting by the shore, 
who appeared stupiiied with terror. They asked him concern- 
ing the fate of the city; — but he gave them no answer. They 
intreated, — begged him to tell them ; — he only gazed on the 
dismal lake; — they offered him food, — but he heeded it not ; — 
they tried to rouse him from his insensibility, — but pointing to 
the place of the city, with a shriek he fled, and was seen no more. 

The Wild Boy. — Charles W. Thome^on. 

1. He sat upon the wave washed shore, 
With madneps in his eye ; 

The surges' dash — tlie breakers' roar — 

Passed unregarded by — 
He noticed not the billows' roll, 

He heeded not their strife — 
For terror had usurped his soul. 

And stopped the streams of life. 

2. They spoke him kindly — but he gazed, 
And offered no reply — 

They gave him food — he look'd amazed, 

And threw the morsel by. 
He was as one o'er whom a spell 

Of darkness hath been cast ; 
His spirit seemed alone to dwell 

With dangers that were past. 

3. The city of his home and heart, 
So grand — so gaily bright, 

Nov/ touch'd by Fate's unerring dart, 

Had vanish'd from his sight. 
The earthquake's paralizing shake 

Had rent it from its hold — 
And nothing but a putrid lake 

Its tale of terror told. 

4. His kindred there, a numerous band, 
Had watch'd his youthful bloom. 

In the broad ruin of the land 

All — all had met their doom ! 
But the last night, a mother's voice 

Breath'd over him in prayer — 
She perished — he was left no choice 

But mute and blank despair. 



100 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

5. He sat alone, of all the crowd 

That lately thron^'d around, — 
The ocean winds were piphig loud, 

He did not heed their sound, 
They ask'd him of that city's fate, 

But reason's reign was o'er — 
He pointed to her ruin'd state, 

Then fled — and spoke no more. 



LESSON LHL i' 3 

The Starling. — Stfrne. 

\. Beshrew the sombre* pencil ! said I vauntingly — for I 
envy not its powers, which paints the evils of life with so hard 
and deadly a coloring-. The mind sits terrified at the objects 
she has magnified herself and blacl^ened : reduce them to their 
proper size and hue, she overlooks them. 

2. 'Tis true, said I, correcting the proposition — the Bastilef 
3*s not an evil to be despised — but strip it of its towers — fill up 
thefosse^ — unbarricade the doors — call it simply a confinement, 
and suppose 'tis some tyrant of a distemper — and not of a man 
' — which holds you in it — the evil vanishes, and you bear the 
Dther half without complaint. 

3. I w^as interrupted in the hey-day of this soliloquy, |[ with a 
roice which I took to be of a child which complained, " it 
could not get out." — I looked up and down the passage, and 
seeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went out without fur- 
ther attention. 

4. In my return back through the passage, I heard the same 
words repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw it was a 
Starling hung in a little cage — " I can't get out — I can't get 
out," said the Starling. 

5. I stood looking at the bird ; and to every person who 
came through the passage, it ran fluttering to the side towards 
which they approached it, with the same lamentations of its 
captivity — " I can't get out," said the Starling. 

6. God help thee ! said I, but I will let thee out, cost what 
it will ; so I turned about the cage to get at the door ; it was 

* Pronounced som'-ber, gloomy, dull, sad. 

■f Pronounced Bas-tcel, an old castle in Paris, built between 1369 and 
1383, and used as a state prison. It was demolished in 1789. 
t Pronounced foss, a ditch. 
.'J So-lil'-o-c[uy, a speech made by -ne alone to himself. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOK. 101 

twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no get' 
ting" it open without pulUng the cage to pieces — I took both 
hands to it. 

7. The bird flew to the place v/here I was attempting his 
deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed 
his breast against it as if impatient. — I fear, poor creature ! 
said I, I cannot set thee at liberty — " No," said the Starling. — 
" I can't get out, I can't get out," said the Starling. 

8. I never had my affections more tenderly awakened ; nor 
do 1 remember an incident in my life, where the dissipated 
spirits, to v/hich my reason had been a bubble, were so sudden- 
ly called hom.e. 

9. Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune to 
nature were they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew 
all my systematic reasonings upon tlie Bastile ; and I heavily 
walked up stairs, unsaying every word I had said in going down 
them. 

10. Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, slavery ! — still thou 
art a bitter draught ! and though thousands in all ages have 
been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that 
account. 

11. 'Tis thou, liberty — thrice sweet and gracious goddess — - 
whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grate- 
fid, and ever v/ill be so, till nature herself shall change — no tint 
of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy 
sceptre into iron — with thee to smile upon him as he eats his 
crust, the swain is happier than his m.onarch, from whose court 
thou art exiled. 

12. Gracious Heaven ! Grant m.e but health, thou great 
Eestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my com- 
panion — and shower down thy mitres,* if it seem good unto 
thy divine Providence, upon those heads which are aching for 
them. 

13. The bird in his cage pursued me into my room ; I sat 
down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, 
I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement ; I was 
in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagina- 
tion. 

14. I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow crea- 
tures born to no inheritance but slavery ; but finding, however 
affecting the picture was, that I could not brin g it near me, and 

* Mitre, a kind of crown, or ornament, worn on the head by bishops on 
eolenm occasions. 

9* 



102 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

that the multitude of sad groups in it did but distract me — I 
took a single captive, and having first shut him up in his dun- 
geon, I then looked through the twihght of his gloated door to 
take his picture. 

15. I beheld his body half wasted away with long expecta- 
tion and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the 
heart it is which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking 
nearer, I saw him pale and feverish : in thirty years the western 
breeze had not once fanned his blood — he had seen no sun, no 
moon, in all that time — nor had the voice of friend or kinsman 

breathed through his lattice — his children but here my heart 

began to bleed — and I was forced to go on with another part of 
the portrait. 

16. He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in 
the farthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his 
chair and bed ; a little calender of small sticks was laid at the 
head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had 
passed there — he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and 
with a rusty nail he was etching another day of mxisery to add 
to the heap. 

17. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hope- 
less eye towards the door, then cast it down — shook his head, 
and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains 
upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon 
the bundle — He gave a deep sigh — I saw the iron enter into 
his soul — I burst into tears — I could not sustain the picture of 
confinement which my fancy had drawn. 



LESSON LIV. 
Alcander and Septimius. — Goldsmith. 

1. Alcander and Septimius were two Athenian students, 
whose tastes for the arts and sciences becam.e the foundation 
of their future friendship, and they were scarcely ever seen 
apart. Although Alcander's breast was animated by that ten- 
der sentiment, a still more lively one found entrance, and the 
fair Hypatia became the object of his Jove : He declared his 
passion, and v/as accepted. 

2. Septimius happened to have left the city, when his friond 
first saw the blooming fair one, and did not return until the day 
fixed upon for his marriage. The moment that introduced him 
to the view of such perfection, was fatal to his peace ; and the 
struggle between love and friendship became too violent for his 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 103 

resolution. A sudden and dangerous fever attacked him ; and 
the unsuspicious Alcander introduced the object of his affection 
to assist him in his unwearied care of his friend. 

.3. The moment the physicians beheld Hypatia enter, they 
were no longer at a loss to account for their patient's illness; 
and calling Alcander aside, they informed him of the nature of 
it, and also expressed their fears that Septimius' recovery was 
impossible ! Tortured between the dread of losing the friend of 
his heart, and agonized at the idea of relinquishing the object 
of his affection, his anguish for sometime deprived him of ut- 
terance ; but recovering that fortitude which had ever marked 
his conduct, he flew to the bed-side of his apparently dymg 
friend, and promised to renounce his claim to Hypatia, if she 
consented to a union with Septimius. 

4. Whether Hypatia had not been strongly attached to the 
amiable Alcander, or whether compassion urged her to accept 
t].e hand of his friend, is uncertain ; but they were united, quit- 
ted Athens, and went directly to Septimius' house at Rome. 
Hypatia's frienus, imagining Alcander had relinquished his 
betrothed bride for the sake of a rich reward, commenced an 
action against him for a breach of promise ; and the judges, 
biassed by the representations of his enemies, ordered that he 
should pay a heavier fine than his whole property amount- 
ed to. 

5. The wretched Alcander was now reduced to the most 
melancholy situation; his friend absert, the object of his love 
lost, and his ov/n character stigmatized with baseness ! Being 
absolutely unable to pay the demand, his person became the 
property of his oppressors, and he was carried into the market 
place and sold as a common slave. A Thracian merchant 
became his purchaser, and for several years he endured a life 
of torment. At length liberty presented itself to his view, and 
the opportunity of flight was not to be rejected. Alcander 
ardently embraced it, and arrived at Rome in the dusk of the 
evening. 

6. Friendless, hopeless, and forlorn, the generous Alcander 
had no place of shelter, and necessity compelled him to seek a 
lodging in a gloomy cavern. Tvv^o robbers, who had long been 
suspected to frequent that spot, arrived there soon after mid- 
night, and disputing about their booty, fortunately did not per- 
ceive his presence. One of them at length was so exasperat- 
ed against his companion, that drawing a dagger from his side, 
he plunged it into his heart, and left him, weltering in his blood 
at the mouth of the cave. 



104 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

7. Alcander's miseries had been so accumulated, and his dis- 
tresses so undeserved, that his mind at last was worn down by 
his afflictions, and he became indifferent to every thing around 
him. In this situation he was discovered, and dragged to a 
court of justice, as the murderer of the man whose body had 
been found in the cave. Weary of existence, he did not deny 
the charge ; and sentence was going to be pronounced against 
him, when the murderer, smitten with a pang of conscience, 
entered the court, and avowed the fact ! 

8. Astonishment seized every mind, but particularly that of 
the judge who was going to comdemn him, who, examining the 
countenance of a man capable of such singular conduct, discov- 
ered the features of his beloved friend, Alcander ! Rising from 
the throne of justice, and flying to the bar of guilt, he caught 
his suffering Alcander in his arms, and, after shedding over 
him tears of joy and compassion, presented him to the Senators 
as a man whose disinterested conduct had been the means ol 
preserving his own existence. 



LESSON LY. 
Ingratitude — Story of Inkle and Yarico. 

1. Amidst the various vices to which human nature is prone, 
none more strikingly evince its debasement than ingratitude. 
For other vices, and other failings, reason may be able to assign 
a cause ; but for that she must search in vain. That kindness 
should ever be returned with cruelty, or affection be treated 
with neglect, is humanity'' s shame, and man's disgrace. 

2. Mr. Thomas Inkle, a young merchant of London, was the 
third son of a wealthy citizen, who had carefully instilled into 
his mind a desire of acquiring wealth ; and this propensity, 
which he had imbibed from precept, and felt from nature, was 
the grand inducement for him to try his fortune in the West 
Indies. Inkle's person Avas absolutely the reverse of his mind : 
the former was manly and noble ; but the latter mean and 
contracted. 

3. During the voyage, the Achilles, the vessel in which he 
embarked, put into a creek to avoid the fury of a storm ; and 
young Inkle, with several of the party, went on shore, to take 
a \\ew of a scene so entirely new. They had not walked far 
up the country before they were observed by a party of Indians, 
and fear and apprehension lent wings to their flight. Inkle 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 105 

outran his companions, and breathless with terror, sought secu- 
rity in the thicket of a forest. 

4. He had not been there long, when he was surprised by 
the appearance of a young female, whose benignant counte- 
nance seemed instantly to compassionate his forlorn situation. 
The name of the female was Yarico. Gentleness and sweet- 
ness were displayed in every feature ; and when Inkle, by signs, 
acquainted her with his condition, she evidently proved that 
syjirpathy was confined to no particular clime, and that human- 
ity depends not upon the color of the skin. 

5. The generous Indian was a woman of high birth ; and 
knowing that the tenderness she felt for the unfortunate stran- 
ger would be displeasing to her parents, she knew the necessi- 
ty of disguising it. She conducted Inkle to a remote cave, sup- 
plied his Vi'^ants, and daily administered to his comforts. Her 
affection in time became so strong, that she scarcely could ex- 
ist but in his presence. 

6. Fearful that he would grow v/eary of his confinement, she 
used to watch the opportunities of her parents' absence, and 
then conduct him into the beauteous groves, with which that 
country abounds ; then persuade him to lie down and slumber, 
and anxiously watch by him for fear he should be disturbed ! 
His little dwelling was adorned with all the elegance that na- 
tive art could suggest, and unsuspecting innocence employ, to 
make it appear pleasing to her lover's eyes. 

7. At length Yarico had the happiness of finding Inkle un- 
dei stand her language, and of hearing him express the strength 
of his gratitude, and power of his love. Inkle was constantly 
representing the joys that would await them, if they could once 
return to England, and painted his passion in such glowing 
colors, that the unsuspecting Yarico could not doubt its sinceri- 
ty, and at length promised not only to become the partner of 
his flight, but daily watch the arrival of some vessel to promote it. 

8. The wished for object soon appeared ; the unsuspicious 
Yarico left the abode of her doating parents, and, forgetful of 
duty, thought only of her afiection. The ship in which they 
had embarked was bound for Barbadoes,* and all Inkle's ideas 
of acquiring wealth returned with double force. Love, w^hich 
had been a transitory passion, and v/hich had its foundation in 
interest, now yielded to a superior claim. His freedom once 
obtained the means w^ere totally forgotten, and the unfortu- 
nate Yarico was considered as a tax upon his bounty. 

* Barbadoes, the most eastern of the West India Islands, 



106 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

9. As soon as the vessel arrived at Barbadoes, the merchants 
crowded around it for the purpose of purchasing slaves. The 
despicable Inkle was animated at the sight, and resolving to 
relieve himself of what he considered a burden, offered the 
beauteous Yarico, his amiable deliverer, to the highest bidder ! 
It was in vain that she threw herself on her knees before him, 
or pleaded her tenderness and affection ; the heart that could 
be dead to gratitude was lost to love ; and the unfortunate 
Yarico was doomed to a life of slavery!! 



LESSON LVI. y^ 

The Battle of Blenheim* — Southey. 

1. It was a summer evening ; 

Old Kaspar's work was done ; 
And he, before his cottage door, 

Was sitting in the sun ; 
And by him sported on the green, 
His little grandchild, Wilhemine. 

2. She saw her brother Peterkin 

Roll something large and round, 
That he beside the rivulet. 

In playing there had found ; 
He came to ask what he had found. 
That was so large, and smooth, and round. 

3. Old Kaspar took it from the boy, 

Who stood expectant by ; 
And then the old man shook his head, 

And with a natural sigh, 
'Tis some poor fellow's skull, said he, 
Who fell in the great victory. 

4. 1 find them in the garden, for 

There's many here about. 
And often when I go to plough. 

The ploughshare turns them out ; 
For many thousand men, said he. 
Were slain in this great victory. 

* Blenheim, a town in the north-western part of Austria, on the river Dan- 
ube. It is famous for the great victory obtained in its viciniiy, on the IStli 
ot August, 1704, by the English and Austrians, under the duke of Marlbo- 
rough ..nd prince Eugene, over the French and Bavarians, commanded Y'f 
marshals Tallard, Marsin, and the elector of Bavaria. The loss of t/ ■» 
French and Bavarians exceeded 30,000 ; that of the allies w;:,s 12,000. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 107 

5. Now tell us what 'twas all about, 

Youno; Peterkin he cries ; 
And little Wilhemine looks up, 

With wonder waiting eyes ; 
Now tell us ail about the war, 
And whv*t they killed each other for. 

G. It was the English, Kaspar cried, 
That put the French to rout ; 
But what they kill'd each other for, 

I could not well make out; 
But every body said, quotti he. 
That 'twas a famous victory ; 

7. My father liv'd at Blenheim then. 

Yon little stream hard by ; 
They burnt his dwelling to the ground. 

And he was forc'd to fly : 
So with his wife and child he fled, 
Nor had he where to rest his head. 

8. With fire and sword the country round 

Was wasted far p.nd wide, 
And many a chiding mother then. 

And new-born infant died; 
But things like this, you know, must be 
At every famous victory. 

9. Great praise the noble General won, 

And our good friend Eugene ;* — 
Why, 'twas a very wicked thing, 

•Said little Wilhemine ; 
Nay, nay, my little girl, quoth he. 
It was a famous victory. 

10. And every body praised the Dukef 
Who such a fight did win ; 
But what good came of it at last ? 

Said little Peterkin ; 
Why — that — I cannot tell, said he, 
But 'twas a fiimous victory. 
•'■ L rancis Eugene, Prince of Savoy, born in 16GG. Finding himself 
slighted l)y Louis XIV. in Franco, his native country, he retired to Germa- 
ny, and spent liis life in the service of the Austrians. His victories over 
the Turks, and afterwards over the French, have rendered his name iia- 
Diortal. He died at Vienna, 1736. 
♦ DSike of MarlIx»rou(rh, an En(T!i&hina.r* 



109 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON LYII. 
The Dog and the Fox. — Gay. 

1. A Shepherd's dog, unskilled in sports, 
Picked up acquaintance of all sorts. 
Among the rest a fox he knew ; 

By frequent chat their friendship grew. 

2. Says Renard, " 'Tis a cruel case, 
That man should stigmatize our race. 
No doubt, among us, rogues you find, 
As among dogs and human kind ; 
And yet, (unknown to me and you,) 
There may be honest m.en and true. 

3. " Thus slander tries, whate'er it can, 
To put us on the foot with man. 

Let my own actions recommend ; 
No prejudice can blind a friend ; 
You know me free from all disguise ; 
My honor as my life I prize." 

4. By talk like this, from all mistrust 
The dog was cured, and thought him just. 
As on a time the fox held forth 

On conscience, honesty, and worth. 
Sudden he stopped ; he cocked his ear, 
Low dropped his brushy tail with fear. 
" Bless us ! the hunters are abroad : 
What's all that clatter on the road ?" 

5. " Hold," says the dog ; " we're safe from harm ; 
'Twas nothing but a false alarm. 

At yonder town, 'tis market day ; 
Some farmer's wife is on the way : 
'Tis so, (I know her pie-bald mare,) 
Dame Dobbins, with her poultry-ware^ 

6. Renard grew huff. Says he, " This sneer, 
From you, I little thought to hear. 

Your meaning in your looks I see ; 
Pray, what's dame Dobbins, friend, to me ? 
Did I e'er make her poiiltry thinner? 
Prove that I owe the dame a dinner." 

7. " Friend," quoth the cur, " I meant no harm, 
Then why so captious ? why so warm ? 

My words, in common acceptation, 
Could never give this provocation ; 
No lamb (for aught I ever knew) 
May be mofe innocent than you.'* 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 109 

8. At this, galled Renard winced, and swore 
Such language ne'er was given before. 

" What's lamb to me ? — the saucy hint ; 
Show me, base knave, which way you squint. 
If t'other night, your master lost 
Three lambs — am I to pay the cost ? 
Your vile reflections would imply 
That I'm the thief. You dog, you lie." 

9. " Thou knave, thou fool," the dog replied, 
" The name is just, take either side ; 

Thy guilt these applications speak ; 
Sirrah, 'tis conscience makes you squeak" 
So saying, on the fox he flies : — 
The self-convicted felon dies. 



LESSON LVIII. 

Tke Hare and the Tortoise. — Lloyd. 

1. In days of yore,* when time was young, 
When birds conversed as well as sung, 
When use of speech was not confined 
Merely to brutes of human kind, 

A forward hare of swiftness vain. 
The genius of the neighboring plain, 
Would oft deride the drudging crowd, 
For geniuses are ever proud : 
He'd boast, his flight 'twere vain to follow ; 
For dog, and horse, he'd beat them hollow ; 
Nay, if he put forth all his strength. 
Outstrip his brethren half a length. 

2. A tortoise heard his vain oration, 
And vented thus his indignation ; — 

" O puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace, 

When I defy thee to the race. 

Come, 'tis a match ; nay, no denial : 

I lay my shell upon the trial." 

'Twas "Done !" and " Done !" "All fair !" " A bet 

Judges prepared, and distance set. 

3. The scampering hare outstripped the wind ; 
The creeping tortoise lagged behind, 

♦ Yore, loncp ago. of old time. 
10^ 



IIU NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

And scarce had passed a single pole, 
When puss had almost reached the goal. 
" Friend tortoise," quoth the jeering hare, 
" Your burden's more than you can bear ; 
To help your speed it were as well 
That I should ease you of your shell : 
Jog on a little faster, pr'ythee ; 
I'll take a nap, and then be with thee." 

4. So said, so done, and safely, sure ; 
For say, what conquest more secure ? 
When'er he waked, (that's all that's in it,) 
He could o'ertake him in a minute. 

The tortoise heard his taunting jeer, 

But still resolved to jDersevere ; 

Still drawled along, as who should say, 

« I'll win, like Fabius,* by delay ;" 

On to the goal securely crept, 

While puss, unknowinj^, soundly slept. 

5. The bets w^ere won, the hare awoke, 
When thus the victor-tortoise spoke : — 

*' Puss, though I own thy quicker parts, 
Things are not always done hy starts ; 
You may deride my awkward pace, 
But slow and steady wins the race,''* 



LESSON LIX. - 
'ITie Painter loho pleased Nobody and Every Body. — Gay 

1. Lest men suspect your tale untrue, 
Keep probability in view. 

The trav'ller, leaping o'er those bounds. 
The credit of his book confounds. 
Who with his tongue hath armies routed, 
Makes e'en his real courage doubted. 

2. But flatt'ry never seems absurd ; 
The flatter'd always take your word ; 
Impossibilities seem just ; 

They take the strongest praise on trust ; 
Hyperboles, though e'er so great. 
Will still come short of self conceit. 



- An illustrious Roman General who opposed Hannibal in Italy. H# 
died 203 years B. C. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. HI 

3. So very like a painter drew, 
That ev'ry eye the picture knew ; 
He hit complexion, feature, air, 
So just thai life itself was there ; 
No flatt'ry with his colors laid, 
To bloom restor'd the faded maid ; 
He gave each muscle all its strength ; 
The mouth, the chin, the nose's length, 
His honest pencil touch'd with truth, 
And mark'd the date of age and youth. 

4. He lost his friends ; his practice fail'd, 
Truth should not always be reveal'd ; 

In dusty piles his pictures lay, 
For no one sent the second pay. 

5. Tv/o busto's, fraught with ev'ry grace, 
A Venus'* and Apollo'sf face, 

He plac'd in view — resolv'd to please, 
Whoever sat, he drevv^ from these ; 
From these corrected every feature, 
And spirited each awkward creature. 

6. All things were set ; the hour v/as come, 
His palette}: ready o'er his thumb : 

My Lord appear'd, and seated right, 

In proper attitude and light. 

The painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece ; 

Then dipt his pencil, talk'd of Greece, 

Of Titian's II tints, of Guido's|| air, 

" Those eyes, my Lord, the spirit there, 

Might well a Raphael'sH hand require, 

To give them all the native fire ; 

The features, fraught with sense and wit, 

You'll grant, are very hard to hit : 

But yet, with patience, you shall view 

As much as paint or art can do : 

7. Observe the work." — My Lord reply'd, 
" Till now, I thought my mouth was wide : 
Besides, my nose is somewhat long ; 

Dear sir, for me 'tis far too young." 

* Venus, one of the most celebrated of the heathen deities. She was the 
goddess of be-auty. Copies of her statue are used as models by painters. 

t Apollo, another of the ancient heathen deities. The Apollo-Belvidere 
is an ancient statue of the first class in excellence. 

t Palette, a little oval table, or board, on which the painter places hia 
colors to be used, and mixes them to obtain the requisite tints. 

B An Italian painter. 



112 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

" O pardon me," the artist cry'd, 

" In this, we painters must decide. 

The piece e'en common eyes must strike ; 

I'll warrant it extremely like." 

My Lord examin'd it anew, 

No looking-glass seem'd half so true. 

8. A lady came. With borrow'd grace, 
He from his Venus form'd her face, 

Her lover prais'd the painter's art, 
So like the picture in his heart ! 
To ev'ry age some charm he lent ; 
E'en beauties were almost content. 

9. Through all the town his aft they prais'd, 
His custom grew, his price was rais'd. 

Had he the real likeness shown. 
Would any man the picture own ? 
But when thus happily he wrought, 
Each found the likeness in his thought. 



LESSON LX. 

Story of the Siege of Calais, 

1. Edward the III. after the battle of Cressy,* laid siege to 
Calais.! He had fortified his camp in so impregnable a man- 
ner, that all the efforts of France proved ineffectual to raise the 
siege, or throw succors into the city. The citizens under count 
Vienne, their gallant governor, made an admirable defence. 

2. France had now put the sickle into her second harvest, 
since Edward, with his victorious army, sat down before the 
town. The eyes of all Europe were intent on the issue. At 
length, famine did more for Edward than arms. 

3. After suffering unheard of calam.ities, they resolved to 
attempt the enemy's camp. They boldly sallied forth ; the 
English joined battle ; and after a long and desperate engage- 
ment, count Vienne was taken prisoner, and the citizens, who 
survived the slaughter, retired within their gates. 

4. The command devolving upon Eustace St. Pierre, a man 
of mean birth, but of exalted virtue, he offered to capitulate with 

* Cressy, a town of France, situpted on the river Maye, 100 miles north 
of Paris. It is celebrated for the great victory gained on the 26th of August, 
A. D. 1346, by Edward III. of England, over Philip VI. of France. 

t Cal-ais, a town of France, situated on the Straits of Dover, taJien by 
Edward III. in 1347. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 113 

Edward, provided he permitted him to depart with life and 
liberty. Edward, to avoid the imputation of cruelty, consented 
to spare the bulk of the Plebeians,* provided they delivered up 
to him six of their principal citizens, wdtli halters about their 
necks, as victims of due atonement for that spirit of rebellion 
with which they had inflamed the vulgar. 

5. When the messenger, Sir Walter Mauny, delivered the 
terms, consternation and pale dismay were impressed on every 
countenance. To a long and dead silence, deep sighs and 
groans succeeded, till Eustace St. Pierre, getting up to a little 
eminence, thus addressed the assembly : 

6. " My friends, Vv^e are brought to great straits this day ; we 
must either yield to the terms of our cruel and ensnaring con- 
queror, or give up our tender infants, our wives and daughters, 
to the bloody and brutal lusts of the violating soldiers. 

7. " Is there any expedient left whereby we may avoid the 
guilt and infamy of delivering up those who have suffered every 
misery with you, on the one hand ; or the desolation and horror 
of a sacked city, on the other? There is, my friends ; there is 
one expedient left; a gracious, an excellent, a godlike expedient! 
Is there any here to whom virtue is dearer than life ? Let him 
offer himself an oblation for the safety of his people ! He shall 
not fail of a blessed approbation from that pov/er, who offered 
up his only Son for the salvation of mankind." 

8. He spoke — but an universal silence ensued. Each man 
looked around for the example of that virtue and magnanimity, 
which all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted 
the resolution. At length St. Pierre resumed, "I doubt not but 
there are many as ready, nay, more zealous of this martyrdom, 
than I can be ; though the station to which I am raided, by the 
captivity of Lord Vienne, imparts a right to be the first in giving 
my life for your sakes. I give it freely ; I give it cheerfully. 

9. " Who comes next ;" " Your son," exclaimed a youth, 
not yet come to maturity. " Ah, my child !" cried St. Pierre, 
" I am then twice sacrificed. But, no ; I have rather begotten 
thee a second time. Thy years are few, but full, my son. 
The idctim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose and goal of 
mortality. Who next, my friends? This is the hour of heroes !" 
" Your kinsman," cried John de Aire. "Your kinsman," cried 
James Wissant. " Your kinsman," cried Peter Wissant. 

10. "Ah!" exclaimedSir Walter Mauny, bursting into tears, 
*' Why was I not a citizen of Calais ?" The sixth victim was 

* Plebeian, one of the common people, or lower ranks of men. 
10* 



114 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR, 

still wanting, but was quickly supplied by lot, from numbers 
who were now emulous of so ennobling an example. The keys 
of the city were then delivered to Sir Walter. He took the six 
prisoners into his custody; then ordered the gates to be opened, 
and gave charge to his attendants to conduct the remaining citi- 
zens with their families, through the camp of the English. 

11. Before they departed, however, they desired permission 
to take their adieu of their deliverers. What a parting ! What 
a scene ! They crowded, with their wives, and children, about 
St. Pierre and his fellow prisoners. They embraced ; they 
clung around ; they fell prostrate before them. 

12. They groaned ; they wept aloud ; and the joint clamor 
of their mourning passed the gates of the city, and was lieard 
throughout the English camp. The English by this time were 
apprised of what passed within Calais. 

13. They heard the voice of lamentation, and they wers 
touched with compassion. Each of the soldiers prepared a 
portion of his own victuals to welcome and entertain the half- 
famished inhabitants ; and they loaded them with as much as 
their present weakness was able to bear, in order to supply 
them with sustenance by the vv^ay. 

14. At length St. Pierre and his fellow idctim.s appeared, 
under the conduct of Sir Walter and a guard. All the tents of 
the English were instantly emptied. The soldiers poured from 
all parts, and arranged themselves on each side, to behold, 
to contemplate, to admire, this little band of patriots, as they 
passed. 

15. They bowed down to them on all sides. They murmur- 
ed their applaiise of that virtue, which they could not but revere, 
even in enemies ; and they regarded those ropes which they 
voluntarily assumed about their necks, as ensigns of greater 
dignity than that of the British garter.* 

16. As soon as they had reached the presence, " Mauny," 
says the Monarch, " are these the principal inhabitants of 
Calais ?" " They are," says Mauny ; " they are not only the 
principal men of Calais, but they are the principal men of 
France, mylord, if virtue has any share in the act of ennobling." 
' Were they delivered peaceably?" says Edward. " Was there 
no resistance, no commotion among the people ?" " Not in the 

. east, my lord ! the people would all have perished, rather 
than have delivered the least of these to your Majesty. They 

* Garter, the badge of an order of knighthood in Great Britain, instituted 
qfy Edward III. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 115 

are self-delivered, self-devoted, and come to offer up their 
inestimable heads, as an ample equivalent for the ransom of 
thousands." 

17. Edward was secretly piqued* at this reply of Sir V/alter; 
but he knew the privilege of a British "subject, and suppressed 
nis resentment. " Experiencej" says he, "has ever shown^ that 
lenity only serves to invite people to new crimes. Severity, at 
times, is indispensably necessary, to compel kibjects to submis- 
sion, by punishment and example." " Go," he cried to an 
officer, " lead these men to execution." 

18. At this instant a sound of triumph was heard throughout 
the camp. The queen had just arrived with a pov/erful rein- 
forcement of gallant troops. Sir Walter Mauny flew to receive 
her Majesty, and briefly informed her of the particulars respect- 
ing the six victims. 

i9. As soon as she had been welcomed by Edward and his 
court, she desired a private audience. " My lord," said she, 
" the question I am to enter upon, is not touching the lives of a 
{ew mechanics- — it respects tlie honor of the English nation; it 
respects the glory of my Edward, my husband, and my king. 

20. " You think you have sentenced six of your enemies to 
death. No, my lord, they have sentenced themselves ; and 
their execution would be the execution of their own orders, not 
the orders of Edward. The stage on which they w ould sufler, 
would be to them a stage of honor, but a stage of shame to 
Edward ; a reproach on his conquests ; an indelible disgrace 
to his name. 

21. "Let us rather disappoint these haughty burghers, who 
wish to invest them.selves v*^ith glory at our expense. We 
cannot wholly deprive them of the merit of a sacrifice so nobl}^;^ 
intended, but we may cut them short of their desires ; in place 
of that death by which their glory would be consummate, let 
us bury them under gifts ; let us put them to confusion with 
applauses. 

22. " We shall thereby defeat them of that popular opinion, 
which never fails to attend those who suflfer in the cause of 
virtue." " I am convinced ; you have prevailed. Be it so," 
replied Edward ; " prevent the execution ; have them instantly 
before us." 

23. They came ; when the Queen, with an aspect and accent 
diffusing sweetness, thus bespoke them : " Natives of France, 
and inhabitants of Calais, you have put us to a vast expense of 

* Pronounced peek'd, offended. 



116 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

blood and treasure in the recovery of our just natural inherit- 
ance ; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous judg- 
ment ; and Vv^e admire and honor in you that valor and virtue, 
by which we are so long kept out of our rightful possessions. 

2^. "You, noble burghers ! You, excellent citizens ! Though 
you were ten-fold the enemies of our person and our throne, 
we can feel nothing on our part, save respect and affection for 
you. You have been sufficiently tested. 

25. " We loose your chains ; we snatch you from the scaffold ! 
and v/e thank you for that lesson of humiliation which you teach 
us, when yon show us, that excellence is not of blood, of title, 
or station ; that virtue gives a dignity superior to that of kings ; 
and that those whom the Almighty informs with sentiments " 
like yours, are justly and eminently raised above all human 
distinctions. 

26. " You are now free to depart to your friends, relatives, 
and countrymen, to all those whose lives and liberties you have 
so nobly redeemed, provided you refuse not the tokens of our 
esteem. Yet we v/ould rather bind you to ourselves by every 
endearing obligation ; and for this purpose we offer to you your 
choice of the gifts and honors that Edward has to bestov*^. 

27. " Rivals for fame, but always friends to virtue ; we wish 
that England were entitled to call you her sons." " Ah, my 
country !" exclaimed St. Pierre ; " it is now that I tremble for 
you. Edward only wms our cities, but Philippa conquers 
hearts." 



LESSON LXL - 
Examples of Decision of Character. — Jokn Foster. 

1. I HAVE repeatedly remarked to you in conversation the 
effect of what has been called a ruling passion. When its object 
is noble, and an enlightened understanding directs its move- 
ments, it appears to me a great felicity ; but whether its object 
be noble or not, it infallibly creates, where it exists in great 
force, that active ardent constancy which I describe as a capital 
feature of the decisive character. 

2. The subject of such a commanding passion wonders, if 
indeed he were at leisure to wonder, at the persons who pretend 
to attach importance to an object which they make none but the 
most languid efforts to secure. The utmost powers of the man 
are constrained into the service of the favorite cause by this 
passion, which sweeps away, as it advances, all the trivia] ob- 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 117 

jcctions and little opposing motives, and seems almost to open 
a way through imj^ossibilities. 

3. This spirit comes on him in the morning as soon as he 
recovers his consciousness, and commands and impels him 
through the day v/ith a power from Avhich he could not eman- 
cipate himself if he would. When the force of hahit is added, 
the determination becomes invincible, and seems to assume 
rank with the great laws of nature, making it nearly as certain 
that such a man wall persist in his course as that in the morn- 
ing the sun vvdll rise. 

4. A persisting untameahle efficacy of soul gives a seductive 
and pernicious dignity even to a character and a course whicli 
every moral principle forbids us to approve. Often in the nar- 
rations of history and fiction, an agent of the m.ost dreadful 
designs compels a sentiment of deep respect for the uncon- 
querable mind displayed in their execution. 

5. While we shudder at his activity, we say with regret, 
mingled with an admiration which borders on partiality, — What 
a noble being this would have been \i goodness had been his 
destiny ! The partiality is evinced in the very selection of terms, 
by which we show that Ave are tem.pted to refer his atrocity 
rather to his destiny than to his choice. 

6. In some of the high examples of ambition, Ave almost 
rcA^ere the force of mind AA^hich impelled them forAvard through 
the longest series of action, superior to doubt and fluctuation, 
and disdainful of ease, of pleasure, of opposition, and of hazard. 

7. We boAv to the ambitious spirit Avhich reached the true 
sublime in the reply of Pompey* to his friends, Avho dissuaded 
him from venturing on a tempestuous sea, in order to be at 
Rome on an important occasion : " It is necessary for m.e to go 
— it is not necessary for me to live." 

8. You mjay recollect the mention, in one of our ccnA'ersa- 
tions, of a young man AAdio wasted, in tAvo or three years, a large 
patrimony in profligate revels Avith a number of Avorthless asso- 
ciates, Avho called themselves his friends, and Avho, Avhen his 
last means AA^ere exhausted, treated him, of course, Avith neglect 
or contempt. 

9. Reduced to absolute AA^ant, he one day Avent out of the 
house Avith an intention to put an end to his life ; but Avander- 
ing aAvhile almost unconsciously, he came to the broAv of an 
eminence Avhich overlooked Avhat were lately his estates. 

* Pompey, a distinguished Roman General, vanquished bv Cesar in the 
battle of Pharsalia. 



118 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

10. Here he sat down, and remained fixed in thought a num 
ber of hours, at the end of which he sprang from the ground 
with a vehement exulting emotion. He had formed his resoki- 
tion, vfhich was, that all these estates should be his again: he 
had formed his plan too, which he instantly began to execute. 

11. He walked hastily forward, determined to seize the very 
first opportunity, of however humble a kind, to gain any money, 
though it were ever so despicable a trifle^ and resolved absolute- 
ly not to spend, if he could help it, a farthing of whatsoever he 
might obtain. 

12. The first thing that drew his attention was a heap of coals 
shot out of carts on the pavements before a house. He offered 
himself to shovel or wheel them into the place where they were 
to be laid, and was employed. He received a few pence for 
the labor, and then in pursuance of the saving part of his plan, 
requested some small gratuity of meat and drink, which was 
given him. 

13. He then looked out for the next thing that might chance 
to ofier, and went, with indefatigable industry, through a suc- 
cession of servile employments in different places, of longer 
and shorter duration, still scrupulously avoiding, as far as pos- 
sible, the expense of a penny. He promptly seized every 
opportunity which could advance his design, without regard- 
ing the meanness of occupation or appearance. 

14. By this method he had gained, after a considerable time, 
money enough to purchase, in order to sell again, a few cattle, 
of which he had taken pains to imderstand the value. He 
speedily but cautiously turned his first gains into second advan- 
tages; retained, without a single deviation, his extreme parsi- 
mony ; and thus advanced by degrees into larger transactions 
and incipient wealth. 

15. I did not hear, or have forgotten, the continued course of 
his life ; but the final result was, that he more than recovered 
his lost possessions, and died an inveterate miser worth 60,000Z. 
I have always recollected this as a signal instance, though in 
an unfortunate and ignoble direction, of decisive character, and 
of the extraordinary effect which, according to general laws, 
belongs to the strongest form of such a character. 



LESSON LXII. 
Ortogrul : or, the Vanity of Riches. — Dr. Johnson. 
1. As Ortogrul of Basra was one day wandering along the 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 119 

streets of Bagdad,* musing on the varieties of merchandise 
which the shops opened to his view ; and observing the differ- 
ent occupations which busied the multitude on every side, he 
was awakened from the tranquillity of meditation, by a crowd that 
obstructed his passage. He raised his eyes, and saw the chief 
vizier,t who, having returned from the divan,| was entering his 
palace. 

2. Ortogrul mingled with the attendants : and being suppos- 
ed lO have some petition for the vizier, was permitted to enter. 
He surveyed the spaciousness of the apartments, admired the 
walls hung with golden tapestry, and the floors covered with 
silken carpets ; and despised the simple neatness of his own little 
habitation. 

3. " Surely," said he to himself, " this palace is the seat of 
happiness : where pleasure succeeds to pleasure, and discontent 
and sorrow can have no admission. — Whatever nature has pro- 
vided for the delight of sense, is here spread forth to be enjoyed. 
What can mortals hope or imagine, which the master of this 
palace has not obtained .'' The dishes of luxury cover his table ; 
the voice of harmony lulls him in his bowers ; he breathes the 
fragrance of the groves of Java, H and sleeps upon the down of 
the cygnets of Ganges. § 

4. " He speaks, and his mandate is obeyed ; he wishes, and 
his wish is gratified ; all whom he sees, obey him, and all whom 
he hears, flatter him. How difierent, O Ortogrul, is thy con- 
dition, who art doomed to the perpetual torments of unsatisfied 
desire ; and who hast no amusement in thy power, that can 
withhold thee from thy own reflections ! 

5. " They tell thee that thou art wise ; but what does wisdom 
avail with povert}'- ? None will flatter the poor ; and the wise 
have very little power of flattering themselves. That m.an is 
surely the most wretched of the sons of wretchedness, who lives 
with his own faults and follies always before him ; and v/ho has 
none to reconcile him to himself by praise and veneration. I 

* Bagdad, a city in Turkey in Asia, situated on the river Tigris. For 
more than 500 years, it was the seat of the Caliphs and capital of the Ma- 
hometan empire, and was one of the most splendid and populous cities in 
the world. It has greatly decayed, and retains but little of its ancient splen- 
dor. 

t Pronounced viz'-yere, the Prime Minister of the Turkish empire. 

t Divan, a Turkish council or assembly. 

II Java, one of the principal East India islands. It is celebrated for the fer- 
tility of its soil, and produces in abundance the richest fruits, and finest spices. 

§ Ganges, a large river in Hindoostan, esteemed sacred by the natives. — 
The cygnet is the young of the swan, a water fowl of snowy whiteness. 



120 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

have long sought content, and have not found it ; I will from 
this moment endeavor to be rich." 

6. Full of his new resolution, he shut himself in his chamber 
for six months, to deliberate how he should grow rich. He 
sometimes purposed to offer himself as a counsellor to one of the 
kings of India ; and sometim^es resolved to dig for diamonds in 
the mines of Golconda.* 

?. One ddiY, after some hours passed in violent fluctuations 
of opinion, sleep insensibly seized him in his chair. He dream- 
ed that he was ranging a desert country, in search of some one 
that m.ight teach him to grow rich ; and as he stood on the top 
of a hill, shaded with cypress, in doubt whither to direct his 
steps, his father appeared on a sudden standing before him. — 
" Ortogrul," said the old man, " I know thy perplexity ; listen 
to thy father ; turn thine eye on the opposite mountain." 

8. Ortogrul looked, and sav/ a torrent tumbling down the 
rocks, roaring with the noise of thunder, and scattering its foam 
on the impending woods. " Now," said his father, "behold 
the valley that lies between the hills." Ortogrul looked, and 
espied a little well, out of which issued a small rivulet. " Tell 
me now," said his father, " dost thoii wish for sudden affluence, 
that may pour upon thee like the mountain torrent ; or for a 
slow and gradual increase, resembling the rill gliding from the 
well ?" 

9. " Let mie be quickly rich," said Ortogrul ; " let the golden 
stream be quick and violent." " Look round thee," said his 
father, " once again," Ortogrul looked, and perceived the 
channel of the torrent dry and dusty ; but following the rivulet 
from the well, he traced it to a wide lake, which the supply, 
^loAV and constant, kept always fuU. He awoke, and determin- 
ed to grovi rich by silent profit, and persevering industry. 

iO. Having sold his patrimony, he engaged in merchandize ; 
and in tvv^enty years purchased lands, on which he raised a 
house, equal in sumptuousness to that of the vizier, to which he 
invited all the ministers of pleasure, expecting to enjoy all the 
felicity which he had imagined riches able to aflbrd. Leisure 
soon made him weary of himself, and he longed to be persuaded 
that he was great and happy. He was courteous and liberal : 
he gave all that approached him hopes of pleasing him, and all 
who should please him hopes of being rewarded. Every art 
of praise was tried, and every source of adulatory fiction was 
exhausted. 

* Golconda, a province of Hindoostan, now called Hyderabad. It was for 
merly celebrated for its diamond mines. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 121 

11. Ortogrul heard his flatterers without delight, because he 
found himself unable to believe them. His own heart told him 
its frailties ; his own understanding reproached him with his 
faults. " How long," said he, with a deep sigh, " have I been 
laboring in vain to amass wealth, which at last is useless ! Let 
no man hereafter wish to be rich, who is already too wise to be 
flattered," 



LESSON LXni. ^ '< 
Schemes of Life often Illusory. — Dr. Johnson. 

1. Omar, the son of Hassan, had passed seventy-five years 
in honor and prosperity. The favor of three successive califs* 
had filled his house with gold and silver ; and v/henever he ap- 
peared, the benedictions of the people proclaimed his passage. 

2. Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The bright- 
ness of the -flame is wasting its fuel ; the fragrant flower is pass- 
ing away in its own odors. The vigor of Omar began to fail ; 
the curls of beauty fell from his head ! strength departed from 
his hands ; and agility from his feet. He gave back to the calif 
the keys of trust, and the'seals of secresy ; and sought no other 
pleasure for the remains of life, than the converse of the wise, 
and the gratitude of the good. 

3. The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His cham- 
ber was filled with visitants, eager to catch the dictates of expe- 
rience, and oflicious to pay the tribute of admiration. Caled. 
the son of the viceroyf of Egypt, entered every day early, and 
retired late. He was beautiful and eloquent. Omar adshired 
his wit, and loved his docility. \ 

4. " Tell nie," said Caled, " thou to whose voice nations 
have listened, and whose wisdom is known to the extremities of 
Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent. The 
arts by which thou hast gained power and preserved it, are to 
thee no longer necessary or useful ; impart to me the secret of 
thy conduct, and teach me the plan upon which thy wisdom has 
built thy fortune." 

5. " Young man," said Omar, " it is of little use to form plans 
of life. When I took my first survey of the world, in my twen- 
tieth year,havmg considered the various conditions of mankind, 
in the hour of solitude, I said thus to myself, leaning against a 
cedar, which spread its branches over my head : 

* A successor of Mahomet among the Saracens. 
+ A governor appointed by a king. 

n 



122 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

6. " Seventy years are allowed to man ; I have yet fifty 
remaining. Ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowl- 
edge, and ten I will pass in foreign countries ; I shall be learned, 
and therefore shall be honored ; every city will shout at my 
arrival, and every student will solicit my friendship. Twenty 
years thus passed, will store my mind Avith images, whfch I 
shall be busy, through the rest of my life, in combining and 
comparing. 

7. " I shall revel in inexhaustible accumulations of intellect- 
ual riches ; I shall find new pleasures for every moment, and 
shall never more be weary of myself I will not, however, 
deviate too far from the beaten track of life ; but will try what 
can be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife beautiful 
as the Houries,* and wise as Zobeide ;t with her I will live 
twenty years within the suburbs of Bagdad, in every pleasure 
that wealth can purchase, and fancy can invent. 

8. " I will then retire to a rural dwelling ; pass my days in 
obscurit)^ and contemplation ; and lie silently down on the bed 
of death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, 
that I will never depend upon the smile of princes ; that I will 
never stand exposed to the artifices of courts ; I will never pant 
for public honors, nor disturb my quiet with the affairs of state. 
Such was my scheme of life, which I impressed indelibly upon 
my memory. 

9. " The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in 
search of knowledge, and I know not how I was diverted from 
my design. I had no visible impediments without, nor any 
ungovernable passions within. I regarded knowledge as the 
highest honor and the most engaging pleasure ; yet day stole 
upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that seven 
years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind 
them. 

10. " I now postponed my purpose of travelling ; for why 
should I go abroad, while so much remained to be learned at 
home ? ' I immured myself for four years, and studied the laws 
of the empire. The fame of my skill reached the judges ; I 
was found able to speak upon doubtful questions ; and was 
commanded to stand at the footstool of the calif. I was heard 
with attention ; I was consulted with confidence ; and the love 
of praise fastened on my heart. 

11. "I still washed to see distant countries ; listened with 
rapture to the relations of travellers ; and resolved some time' 

* Houries, among Mohammedans, nymphs of paradise, of exquisite beauty, 
t Pronounced Zo-bi'-de. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 123 

to ask my dismission, that I might feast my soul with novelty : 
but my presence was always necessary ; and the stream of 
business hurried me along. Sometimes I was afraid lest I 
should be charged with ingratitude ; but I still proposed to 
travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage. 

12. " In my fiftieth year, I began to suspect that the time 
of travelling was past ; and thought it best to lay hold on the 
felicity yet in my power, and indulge myself in domestic pleas- 
ures. But at fifty no man easily finds a woman beautiful as 
the Houries, and wise as Zobeide, I inquired and rejected, 
consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made me 
ashamed of wisliing to marry. I had now nothing left but 
retirement ; and for retirement I never found a time till disease 
forced me from public employment. 

13. " Such was my scheme, and such has been its conse- 
quence. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled 
^way the years of improvement ; with a restless desire of see- 
ing different countries, I have always resided in the same city; 
with the highest expectation of connubial felicity, I have lived 
unmarried; and with unalterable resolutions of contemplative 
retirement, I am going to die within the walls of Bagdad." 



LESSON LXIV. 

The Hill of Science. — Aikin. 

1. In that season of the year, when the serenity of the sky, 
the various fruits which cover the ground, the discolored foliage 
of the trees, and all the sweet, but fading graces of inspiring 
autumn, open the mind of benevolence, and dispose it for con- 
templation, I was wandering in a beautiful and romantic coun- 
try, till curiosity began to give way to weariness ; and I sat 
down on the fragment of a rock overgrown with moss ; where 
the rustling of the falling leaves, the dashing of waters, and the 
hum of the distant city, soothed my mind into a most perfect 
tranquillity; and sleep insensibly stole upon me, as I was in- 
dulging the agreeable reveries, which the objects around me 
naturally inspired. 

2. I immediately found myself in a vast extended plain, in the 
middle of which arose a mountain higher than I had before any 
conception of. It was covered with a multitude of people, chief- 
ly youth ; many of v/hom pressed forward with the liveliest 
expression of ardor in their countenance, though the way was 
in many places steep and difficult. 



124 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. I observed, that those, who had but just began to climb 
the hill, thought themselves not far from the top ; but as they 
proceeded new hills were continually rising to their view ; and 
the summit of the highest they could before discern, seemed 
but the foot of another, till the mountain at length appeared 
to lose itself in the clouds. As I was gazing on these things 
with astonishment, a friendly instructor suddenly appeared : 
*' the mountain before thee," said he, " is the Hill of Science. 
On the top is the Temple of Truth, v/hose head is above the 
clouds, and a vail of pure light covers her face. Observe the 
progress of her votaries ; be silent and attentive." 

4. After I had noticed a variety of objects, I turned my eye 
towards the multitudes who were climbing the steep ascent ; 
and observed among them a youth of a lively look, a piercing 
eye, and something fiery and irregular in all his motions. His 
name was Genius. He darted like an eagle up the mountain ; 
and left his companions gazing after him with envy and admi- 
ration : but his progress was unequal, and interrupted by a 
thousand caprices. 

5. When Pleasure warbled in the valley, he. mingled in her 
train. When Pride beckoned towards the precipice, he ven- 
tured to the tottering edge. He delighted in devious and un- 
tried paths ; and made so many excursions from the road, that 
his feebler companions often outstripped him. I observed 
that the Muses* beheld him with partiality ; but Truth often 
frowned and turned aside her face. 

6. While Genius was thus v/asting his strength in eccentric 
flights, I saw a person of very difierent appearance, named 
Application. He crept along with a slow and unremitting 
pace, his eyes fixed on the top of the mountain, patiently re- 
moving every stone that obstructed his way, till he saw most 
of those below him, who had at first derideci his slow and toil- 
som.e progress. 

7. Indeed, there were fev/ who ascended the hill with equal 
and uninterrupted steadiness ; for, besides the difficulties of the 
way, they were continually solicited to turn aside, by a nume- 
rous crowd of appetites, passions, and pleasures, whose impor- 
tunity, when once com.plied with, they becam.e less and less 
able to resist: and though they often returned to the path, the 
asperities of the road were more severely felt; the hill appeared 

* Muses, certain goddesses among the ancients, or in heatlien mythology, 
nine in number, to whom the invention of sciences is attributed, particularly 
the various kinds of poetry. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 125 

more steep and rugged ; the fruits, which were wholesome and 
refreshing, seemed harsh and ill tasted ; their sight grew dim ; 
and their feet tript at every little obstruction. 

8. I saw, with some surprise, that the muses, whose business 
was to cheer and encourage those who were toiling up the 
ascent, would often sing in the bowers of pleasure, and accom- 
pany those who were enticed away at the call of the passions. 
They accompanied them, however, but a little way ; and al- 
ways forsook them when they lost sight of the hill. The tyrants 
then doubled their chains upon the unhappy captives ; and led 
them away, without resistance, to the cells of Ignorance, or 
the mansions of Misery. 

9. Amongst the innumerable seducers, who were endeavor- 
ing to draw away the votaries of Truth from the path of sci- 
ence, there was one,, so little formidable in her appearance, 
and so gentle and languid in her attempts, that I should scarcely 
have taken notice of her, but for the numbers she had imper- 
ceptibly loaded with her chains. 

10. Indolonce, (for so she was called,) far from proceeding 
to open hostilities, did not attempt to turn their feet out of the 
path, but contented herself with retarding their progress ; and 
the purpose she could not force them to abandon, she persuaded 
them to delay. Her touch had a power like that of the torpedo,* 
v/hich withered the strength of those who came within its influ- 
ence. Her unhappy captives still turned their faces towards 
the temple, and always hoped to arrive there ; but the ground 
seemed to slide from beneath their feet, and they found them-" 
selves at the bottom, before they suspected they had changed 
their place. 

11. The placid serenity, which at first appeared on their 
countenance, changed by degrees into a m.elancholy languor, 
which was tinged with deeper and deeper gloom, as they glided 
down the stream of insignificance ; a dark and sluggish water, 
which is curled by no breeze, and enlivened by no murrxTtriYtill 
it falls into a dead sea, where startled passengers are awakened 
by the shock, and the next moment buried in the gulf of oblivion. 

12. Of all the unhappy deserters from the paths of Science, 
none seemed less able to return than the followers of Indolence. 
The captives of appetite and passion would often seize the mo- 
ment when their tyrants were languid or asleep, to escape from 

* Torpedo, a fish that has the power of communicating electric shocks. 
If, while alive, it is touched even with along stick, it benumbs the hand that 
so touches it. It is found in the rivers of Soutli America. 

11* 



126 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR 

their enchantment; but the dominion of Indolence was constant 
and unremitted; and seldom resisted till resistance was in vain, 

13. After contemplating these things, I turned my eyes to- 
wards the top of the mountain, wdiere the air was always pure 
and exhilarating, the path shaded with laurels and evergreens, 
and the effulgence Vv'hich beamed from the face of Science seem- 
ed to shed a glory round her votaries. " Happy," said I, " are 
they who are permitted to ascend the mountain!" But while 
I was pronouncing this exclamation with uncommon ardor, I 
saw, standing beside me, a form of diviner features, and a more 
benign radiance. 

14. " Happier," said she, " are they whom Virtue conducts 
to the Mansions of Content !" " What," said I, " does Virtue 
then reside in the vale ?" " I am found," said she, " in*the vale, 
and I illuminate the mountain. I cheer the cottager at his toil, 
and inspire the sage at his meditation ; I mingle in the crowd 
of cities, and bless the hermit in his tell. I have a temple in 
every lieart that owns my influence ; and to him that wishes 
for me, I am already present. Science may raise thee to emi- 
nence ; but I alone can guide thee to felicity !" 

15. W^hile Virtue was thus speaking, I stretched out my 
arms towards her, with a vehemence v\"hich broke my slumber. 
The chill dews v/ere falling around me, and the shades of 
evening stretched over the landscape. I hastened homeward, 
and resigned the nisfht to silence and meditation. 



LESSON LXV. 

77ie Vision ofMirza, exhihiting a Picture of Human Life. — 
Spectator. 

1. On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the 
custom of m.y forefathers, I always keep holy, after having 
washed myself, and offered up my morning devotions, I ascend- 
ed the high hills of Bagdad, in order to pass the rest of the day 
in meditation and prayer. 

2. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, 
I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human 
life ; and, passing from one thought to another, " Surely," said 
I, " man is but a shadow, and life a dream." 

3. Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes tov/ards the 
sunTiTait of a rock that was not far from me, where I discoverecl 
one in the habit of a shepherd, with a little musical instjumen* 



NATIONAL PilECEPTOK. 12t 

in his hand. As I looked upon him, he appHed it to his lips^ 
and began to play upon it. 

4. The sound of it was exceedingly sweet, and wrought into 
a variety of tones that were inexpressibly melodious, and alto- 
gether different from any thing I had ever heard : they put me 
in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departed 
souls of good men upon their first arrival in Paradise, to wear 
out the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify them for 
the pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted away in 
secret raptures. 

5. I had been often told, that the rock before me was the 
haunt of a genius,* and that several had been entertained with 
that music, who had passed by it, but never heard that the 
musician had before made himself visible. 

6. When he had raised my thoughts, by those transporting 
airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of his conversation, 
as I looked upon him like one astonished, he beckoned to me, 
and, by the waving of his hand, directed me to approach the 
place where he sat. 

7. I drew near with that reverence which is due to a superior 
nature ; and as my heart was entirely subdued by the captivat- 
ing strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet, and wept. 

8. The genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion 
and affability that familiarized him to my imagination, and at 
once dispelled ail the fears and apprehensions with which I 
approached him. 

9. He lifted me from the ground, and taking me by the hand, 
*' Mirza," said he, " I have heard thee in thy soliloquies ; fol- 
low me." 

10. He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and 
placing me upon the top of it, "Cast thy eyes eastward," said 
he, " and tell me what thou seest." "I see," said I, " a huge 
valley, and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it." 

11. "The valley that thou seest," said he, "is the vale of 
misery ; and the tide of water that thou seest, is part of the 
great tide of eternity." ' What is the reason," said I, " that 
the tide I see, rises out of a thick mist at one end", and again 
loses itself in a thick mist at the other ?" 

12. " What thou seest," said he, " is that portion of eternity 
which is called Time, measured out by the sun, and reaching 
from the beginning of the world to its consummation." 

* Genius, a man endowed with superior mental faculties. Among the 
ancUnts, a good or evil spirit. 



12S NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

13. " Examine now," said he, " this sea that is bounded with 
darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it," 
" I see a bridge," said I, " standing in the midst of the tide." 
" The bridge thou seest," said he, " is human life ; consider it 
attentively." 

14. Upon a more leisurely surrey of it, I found that it con- 
sisted of three score and ten entire arches, with several broken 
arches, Vvhich, added to those that were entire, made up the 
number about an hundred. 

15. As I was counting the arches, the genius told me that 
this bridge consisted at first of a thousand arches ; but that a 
great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruin- 
ous condition I now beheld it. " But tell me further," said he, 
" what thou discoverest on it." — " I see multitudes of people 
passing over it," said I, " and a black cloud hanging on each 
end of it." 

16. As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the pas- 
sengers dropping through the bridge into the great tide that 
flowed under it ; and upon further examination, perceived 
that there were innumerable trap doors that lay concealed in 
the bridge, which the passengers no sooner trod upon, but they 
fell through them into the tide, and immediately disappeared. 

17. These hidden pit-falls were set very thick at the entrance 
of the bridge, so that throngs of people no sooner broke through 
the cloud, but many of them fell into them. They grew thinner 
towards the middle, but multiplied and lay closer together to- 
wards the end of the arches that were entire. 

18. There were indeed some persons, but their number was 
very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the 
broken arches, but fell through one after another, being quite 
tired and spent with so long a walk. 

19. I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonder- 
ful structure, and the great varietyof objects which it presented. 
My heart was filled with a deep melancholy, to see several 
dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and 
catching at every thing that stood by them, to save themselves. 

20. Some were looking up towards the heavens in a thought- 
ful posture, and, in the midst of a speculation, stimibled and fell 
out of sight. 

21. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles, 
that glittered in their eyes, and danced before them ; but often, 
when they thought themselves within the reach of them, their 
footing failed, and down thev sunk. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 129 

22. In this confusion of objects, I observed some with scime- 
tars in their hands, and others with urinals, who ran to and fro 
upon the bridge, thrusting several persons on trap-doors which 
did not seem to lie in their way, and which they might have 
escaped, had they not been thus forced upon them. 

23. The genius seeing me indulge myself in this melancholy 
prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it : " Take 
thine eyes off the bridge," said he, " and tell me if thou seest 
any thing thou dost not comprehend." 

24. Upon looking up, " What mean," said I, " those great 
flights of birds that are perpetually hovering about the bridge, 
and settling upon it from time to time ? I see vultures, harpies, 
ravens, cormorants, and, among many other feathered creatures, 
several little winged boys, that perch in great numbers upon 
the middle arches." 

25. " These," said the genius, "are envy, avarice, supersti- 
tion, despair, love, with the like cares and passions that infest 
human life." 

26. I here fetched a deep sigh : " Alas," said I, " man was 
made in vain ! how is he given away to misery and mortality ! 
tortured in life, and swallowed up in death !" The genius being 
moved with compassion towards me, bid me quit so uncomfort- 
able a prospect. 

27. " Look no more," said he, " on man in the first stage of 
his existence, in his setting out for eternity ; but cast thine eye 
on that thick mist into which the tide bears the several genera- 
tions of mortals that fall into it." 

28. I directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no 
the good genius strengthened it with any supernatural force, or 
dissipated part of the mist that was before too thick for the eye 
to penetrate) I saw the valley opening at the farther end, and 
spreading forth into an immense ocean, that had a huge rock of 
adam.ant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into 
two equal parts. 

29. The clouds still rested on one half of it, insomuch that I 
could discover nothing in it : but the other appeared to me a 
vast ocean, planted with innumerable islands, that were covered 
with fruits and flowers, and interwoven with a thousand little 
shining seas that ran among them. 

30. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, Avith gar- 
lands upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down by 
the sides of fountains, or resting on beds of flowers ; and could 
hear a confused harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human 
voices, and m^usical instruments. 



130 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

31. Gladness grew in me at the discovery of so delightful a 
scene. I wished for the wings of an eagle, that I might fly- 
away to those happy seats ; but the genius told me there was 
no passage to them, except through the gates of death that I saw 
opening every moment upon the bridge. 

32. " The islands," said he, " that lie so fresh and green be- 
fore thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean appears 
spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number than the 
sands on the sea-shore ; there are myriads of islands behind 
those which thou here discoverest, reaching further than thine 
eye, or even thine imagination, can extend itself. 

33. " These are the mansions of good men after death, who 
according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excel- 
led, are distributed among these several islands, which abound 
with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the 
relishes and perfections of those who are settled in them ; every 
island is a paradise accommodated to its respective inhabitants. 

34. " Are not these, O Mirza, habitations worth contending 
for? Does life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities 
of earning such a reward ? Is death to be feared, that will con- 
vey thee lo so happy an existence ? Think not man was made 
in vain, who has such an eternity reserved for him." 

35. I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on these happy 
islands. At length, said I, " Show me now, I beseech thee, the 
secrets that lie hid under those dark clouds, v/hich cover the 
ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant." 

36. The genius making me no answer, I turned about to 
address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had 
left me : I then turned again to the vision which I had been so 
long contemplating ; but instead of the rolling tide, the arched 
bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the long hol- 
low valley of Bagdad, with oxen, sheep, and camels, grazing 
upon the sides of it. 



LESSON LXVI. 

The Chameleon* — Merrick. 

1. Oft it has been my lot to m.ark 

A proud, conceited, talking spark. 
With eyes that hardly served at most 
To guard their master 'gainst a post : 



* Pronounced Ca-me'-le-un, a.n animal of the lizard kind, subject to va- 
riations of color. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 131 

Yet round the world the blade has been 
To see whatever could be seen. 
Returning from his iinisli'd tour, 
Grown ten times perter than before ; 
Whatever word you chance to drop, 
The travell'd fool your mouth will stop ; 
** Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — 
" I've seen — and sure I ought to know"- 
So begs you'd pay a due submission, 
And acquiesce in his decision. 

2. Two travellers of such a cast, 
As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass'd, 
And on their way in friendly chat. 
Now talk'd of this, and then of that, 
Discours'd awhile, 'mongst other matter, 
Of the Chameleon's form and nature. 

3. " A stranger animal," cries one, 
*' Sure never liv'd beneath the sun : 
A lizard's body, lean and long, 

A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 
It's foot with triple claw disjoin'd : 
And what a length of tail behind ! 
How slow its pace ! and then its hue — 
Whoever saw so fine a blue ?" 

4. " Hold there," the other quick replies, 
" 'Tis green — I saw it with these eyes, 

As late with open mouth it lay, 
And warm'd it in the sunny ray ; 
Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd, 
And saw it eat the air for food." 

5. " I've seen it, Sir, as well as you, 
And must again affirm it blue ; 

At leisure I the beast survey'd 
Extended in the cooling shade." 

6. "'Tis green, 'tis green. Sir, I assure ye" — 
" Green I" cries the other, in a fury — 

Why, Sir — d'ye think I've lost my eyes !" 
" 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies, 
" For if they always serve you thus. 
You'll find 'em but of little use." 

7. So high at last the contest rose, 
From words they almost came to blows ; 
When luckily came by a third : 

To him the question they referr'd ; 



132 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

And begg'd he'd tell 'em if he knew, 
Wliether the thing was green or blue. 

8. " Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother- 
The creature's neither one nor t' other. 

I cauglit the animal last night, 
And view'd it o'er by candle light : 
I mark'd it well — 'twas black as jet— 
You stare — but, Sirs, I've got it yet. 
And can produce it." — " Pray, Sir, do : 
I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 
" And I'll be sworn that when you've seen 
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." 

9. " Well then, at once to ease your doubt,'* 
Replies, the man, " I'll turn him out : 

And when before your eyes I've set him, 
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him," 

10. He said ; then full before their sight 
Produc'd the beast, and lo ! — 'twas white. 
Both star'd — the man look'd wond'rous wise-^ 
" My children," the Chameleon cries, 

(Then first the creature found a tongue) 
*' You all are right, and all are wrong : 
When next you talk of what you view, 
Think others see as well as you : 
Nor wonder if you find that none 
Prefers your eye-sight to his own." 



LESSON LXYIL 

Tlie Country Bumpkin and Razor seller. — P. Pindar. 

1. A FELLOW, in a market-town. 

Most musical, cried razors up and down, 
And ofFer'd twelve for eighteen pence ; 

Which, certainly, seem'd wond'rous cheap, 

And, for the money, quite a heap. 
That every man would buy, with cash and sense. 

2. A country bumpkin the great offer heard ; 

Poor Hodge, — who suffer'd by a broad black beard, 
That seem'd a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose. 
With cheerfulness the eighteen pence he paid, 
And, proudly, to himself, in whispers said — 
" This rascal stole the razors, I suppose. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 133 

3. " No matter if tlie fellow be a knave, 
Provided that the razors shave ; 

It certainly will be a monstrous prize." 

So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, — 
Smiling, — in heart and soul content. 

And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes. 

4. Being well lather'd, from a dish or tub, 

Hodge now began, with grinning pain, to grub — 

Just hke a hedger cutting furze : 

'Twas a vile razor ! — then the rest he try'd, — 
All were impostors. " Ah !" Hodge sigh'd, 

" I wish my eighteen pence were in my purse." 

5. In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 

He cut and dug, and whin'd, and stamp'd, and swore ; 
Brought blood, and danc'd, blasphem'd, and mat^e wry faces 

And curs'd each razor's body, o'er and o'er. 

His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff, 

Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff; 
So kept it — laughing at the steel and suds. 

6. Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, 
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clench'd claws. 

On the vile cheat that sold the goods. 
" Razors ! a vile confounded dog ! 
Not fit to scrape a hog." 

7. Hodge sought the fellow — found him — and begun — 
" Perhaps, Master Razor-rogue ! to you 'tis fun 

That people flay themselves out of their lives. 

You rascal ! for an hour have I been grabbing, j 

Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing 
With razors just like oyster-knives. 

Sirrah ! I tell you, you're a knave. 

To cry up razors that can't shave.^^ 

8. "Friend," quoth the lazor-man, "I'm not a knave. 
As for the razors you have bought, — 

Upon my soul, I never thought 
That they would shaveJ''' 

9. " Not f.dnk they'd shave i"' quoth Hodge, with wond'ring eyes 
And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, 

*' What were they made for then, you dog ?" he cries. 
" Made !" quoth the fellow, ^nth a smile — " to sell " 
12 



134 NATIONAL PRECEPl OR. 

LESSON LXVIII. 

The Gascon Peasant and the Flies, 

1. At Neucliatel, in France, where they prepare 
Cheeses, that set lis longing to be mites. 
There dwelt a farmer's wife, famed for her rare 
Skill in these small quadrangular delights. 

Where they were made, they were sold for the immense 

Price of three sous* apiece. 

But as salt water made their charms increase, 

In England, the fixed rate was eighteen pence. 

2. This damsel had, to keep her in her farm, 
To milk her cows, and feed her hogs, 

A Gascon peasant, with a sturdy arm 
For digging, or for carrying logs : 
But m his noddle, weak as any baby, 

In fact a gaby : 
And such a glutton when you came to feed him, 
That Wantley's dragon, who " ate barns and churches 
As if they were geese and turkeys," 
(See the ballad) scarcely could exceed him. 

3. One morn she had prepared a monstrous bowl 

Of cream, like nectar ! ,. 

And would'nt go to church (good careful soul) 
Till she had left it safe with a protector ; 
So she gave strict injunctions to the Gascon, 
To watch it while his mistress was to mass gone. 
Watch it he did ; he never took his eyes off, 
But licked his upper, then his under hp, 
And doubled up his fist to drive the flies off, 
Begrudging them the smallest sip. 

Which if they got, 
Like my Lord Salisbury, he heaved a sigh, 
And cried, " Oh happy, happy fly ! 
IIow I do envy you your lot." 

3. Each moment did his appetite grow stronger ; 

His bowels yearned ; 
At length he could not bear it any longer, 
But, on all sides his looks he turned, 
And, fi.nuing that the coast was clear, he quaffed 

The whole up at a draught! 

♦ Pronounced soo — a sous is of the \alue of a halfpenny. 
t Pronounced draft. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 136 

5. Scudding from church, the farmer's wife 

Flew to the dairy ; 
But stood aghast, and could not, for her life, 

One sentence mutter, 
Until she summoned breath enough to utter 

" " Holy St. Mary"— 
And shortly, with a face of scarlet, 
The vixen* (for she was a vixen) flew 

Upon the varlet ;t 
Asking the when, and where, and how, and who 
Had gulped her cream, nor left an atom? 
To which he made not separate replies, 
But with a look of excellent digestion 
One answer made to every question — 

« The Flies." 

6. " The flies, you rogue ! — the flies, yon guttling dog I 
Behold your whiskers still are covered thickly, 
Thief! Liar! Villain! Gormandizer! Hog! 

I'll make you tell another story quickly." 
So out she bounced, and brought, with loud alarms, 

Two stout Gens d'Armes,| 
Who bore him to the Judge : — a little prig 

With angry bottle nose. 
Like a red-cabbage-rose. 
While lots of white ones flourish' d on his wig. 

7. Looking at once both stern and wise, 

He turned to the delinquent, 
And Van to question him and catechise 

As to Avhich way the drink went. 
Still the same dogged answers rise, 
" The flies, my lord, — the flies, the flies." 

8. "Pshaw," quoth the Judge, half peevish, and half pompous, 

" Why you're non-compos ;. 
You should have watched the bowl, as she desired, 

And killed the flies, you stupid clown." 
" What, is it lawful then," the dolt inquired, 
"To kill the flies in this here town?" 

9. " The man's a fool ! — What question's this ? 
Lawful ! you booby, — to be sure it is : 

♦ Vixen, a cross, quarrelsome woman. t Varlet, a scoundrel. 

t Gens d'Armes, guards. 



136 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

You've my authority, where'er you meet 'em, 
To kill the rogues, and, if you like, to eat 'em !" 

10. " Zooks," cried the rustic, " I'm right glad to hear it. 
Constable, catch that thief! may I go hang 
If yonder blue bottle (I know his face) 
Is not-the very leader of the gang 
That stole the cream ; let me come near it." 
This said, he darted from his place. 
And aiming one of his sledge-hammer blows 
At a large fly upon the Judge's nose — 

The luckless blue bottle he smashed ; 
And gratified a double grudge, 
For the same catapult completely smashed 
The bottle nose belonging to the Judge ! 



LESSON LXIX. 

The Progress of Untruth. — Byrom. 

1. Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand,* 
One took the other, briskly, by the hand ; 

" Hark ye," said he, " 'tis an odd story this. 
About the crows !" — " I don't know what it is," 
Reply 'd his friend — " No ! I'm surpris'd at that ; 
Where I come from, it's the common chat : 

2. " But you shall hear ; — an odd affair indeed ! 
And that it happen'd, they are all agreed : 

Not to detain you from a thing so strange, 
A gentleman that lives not far from 'Change,! 
This week, in short as all the alley knows, 
Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows" 

3. " Impossible !" — " Nay, but it's really true ; 
I have it from good hands, and so may you" — 

" From whose, I pray ?" so having nam'd the man, 

Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. 

" Sir, did you tell" — relating the affair — 

" Yes, sir, I did ; and if it's worth your care, 

Ask Mr. Such-a-one, he told it me ; 

But, by the bye, 'twas two black crows, not three." — 

* Strand, the name of a street in London. 

+ 'Change, for Exchange, a place where merchants and others meet to 
transact business. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 137 

4. Resolv'd to trace so wond'rous an event, 
Whip, to the third, the virtuoso went. 

" Sir," — and so forth — " Why, yes ; the thing is fact, 
Though in regard to number not exact ; 
It was not two black crows, 'twas only one, 
The truth of that you may depend upon." 

5. " The gentleman himself told me the case" — 

" Where may I find him ?" — " Why, in such a place." 

Away goes he, and having found him out, 

" Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt" — 

Then to his last informant he referr'd, 

And begg'd to know, if true what he had heard ; 

6. "Did you. Sir, throw up a black crow?"—" Not I!" 
" Bless me ! how people propagate a lie ! 

Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and owe, 
And here I find all comes at last to none ! 
Did you say nothing of a crow at all i*" 
" Crow — crow — perhaps I might — now I recall 
The matter over" — " And pray, Sir, what was't ?" — 
" Why, 1 was horrid sick, and at the last, 
I did throw up, and told my neighbor so. 
Something that was as black, Sir, as a crow." 



LESSON LXX. ;' ■' 

The Voyage of Life. — Dr. Johnson. 

L " Life," says Seneca,* " is a voyage, in the progress of 
which we are perpetually changing our scenes ; we first leave 
childhood behind us, then youth, then the years of ripened 
manhood, then the better and more pleasing part of old age." 

2. The perusal of this passage having excited in me a train 
of reflections on the state of man, the incessant fluctuation of 
his wishes, the gradual change of his disposition to all external 
objects, and the thoughtlessness with which he floats along the 
stream of time, I sunk into a slumber amidst my meditations, 
and on a sudden, found my ears filled with a tumult of labor, 
the shouts of alacrity, the shrieks of alarm, the whistle of winds, 
and the dash of waters. 

3. My astonishment for a time repressed my curiosity ; but 
soon recovering myself so far as to inquire whither we were 

* Lucius Annseus Seneca, a celebrated Stoic philosopher, and tragic poet, 
born at Corduba in Spain, A. D. 12. He was tutor to the tyrant Nero, 
Emperor of Rome, by whom he was cruelly put to death, A. D. 65 

12* 



138 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

going and what was the cause of such clamor and confusion, I 
was told that we were launching out into tlie ocean of life, that 
we had already passed the straits of infancy, in which multitudes 
had perished, some by the weakness and fragility of their ves- 
sels, and more by the folly, perverseness, or negligence of 
those who undertook to steer them ; and that we were now on 
the main sea, abandoned to the winds and billows, without 
any other means of security than the care of the pilot, whom 
it was always in our power to choose among the great numbers 
that offered their direction and assistance. 

4. I then looked round with anxious eagerness, and first turn- 
ing my eyes behind me, saw a stream flowing through flowery 
islands, which every one that sailed along seemed to behold 
with pleasure, but no sooner touched, than the current, which, 
though not noisy or turbulent, was yet irresistible, bore him 
away. Beyond these islands, all was darkness, nor could any 
of the passengers describe the shore at which he first embarked 

5. Before m.e, and on each side, w^as an expanse of waters 
violently agitated, and covered with so thick a mist, that the 
most perspicacious* eye could see but a little w^ay. It appeared 
to be full of rocks and whirlpools ; for many sunk unexpectedly 
v,^hile they were courting the gale with full sails, and insulting 
those whom they had left behind. 

6. So numerous indeed were the dangers, and so thick the 
darkness, that no caution could confer security. Yet there 
were many, who, by false intelligence, betrayed their followers 
into whirlpools, or by violence pushed those whom they found 
in their w^ay against the rocks. 

?. The current was invariable and insurmountable ; but 
though it was imxpossible to sail against it, or to return to the 
place that was once passed, yet it was not so violent as to allow 
no opportunities for dexterity or courage, since, though none 
could retreat from danger, yet they mJglit avoid it by oblique 
direction. 

8. It was however not very common to steer with much care 
or prudence ; for by some universal infatuation, every man ap- 
peared to think himself safe, though he saw his consorts every 
moment sinking around him ; and no sooner had the waves 
closed over them, than their fate and their misconduct were for- 
gotten ; the voyage was pursued with the same jocund confi- 
dence ; every man congratulated himself upon the soundness of 
his vessel, and believed himself able to stem the whirlpool in 

* Pronounced pcr-spe-ca'-shus, sharp-sighted^ 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 139 

which his friend was swallowed, or glide over the rocks on 
which he was dashed ; nor was it often observed that the sight 
of a wreck made any man change his course ; if he turned aside 
for a moment, he soon forgot the rudder, and left himself again 
to the disposal of chance. 

9. This negligence did not proceed from indifference or from 
weariness of their condition ; for not one of those, who thus 
rushed upon destruction, failed, when he was sinking, to call 
loudly upon his associates for that help which could not now be 
given him ; and many spent their last mom.ents in cautioning 
others against the folly by which they were intercepted in the 
midst of their course. Their benevolence was sometimes prais- 
ed, but their admonitions were unregarded. 

10. In the midst of the current of life was the gulp'i of In- 
temperance, a dreadful whirlpool, interspersed with rocks, of 
which the pointed crags v.^ere concealed under water, and the 
tops covered with herbage, on v/hich Ease spread couches of 
repose, and with shades where Pleasure warbled the song of in- 
vitation. Yfitliin sight of these rocks all who sailed on the 
ocean of life ivAist necessarily pass. 

11. Reason, indeed, v»^as always at hand to steer the passen- 
gers through a narrow outlet by which they might escape ; but 
few could, by her entreaties or remonstrances, be induced to 
put the rudder into her hand, without stipulating that she should 
approach so near unto the rocks of Pleasure, that they might 
solace themselves with a short enjoyment of that delicious 
region, after Vv^hich they ahvays determined to pursue their 
course VAthout any other deviation. 

12. Reason was too often prevailed upon so far, by these 
promises, as to venture her charge within the eddy of , the gulph 
of intemperance, where, indeed, the circumvolution was weak, 
but yet interrupted the course of the vessel, and drew it by 
insensible rotations towards the centre. She then repented her 
temerity, and with all her force endeavored to retreat ; but the 
draught of the gulph was generally too strong to be overcome ; 
and the passenger, having danced in circles with a pleasing and 
giddy velocity, was at last overwhelmed and lost. 

13. As I was looking upon the various fate of the multitude 
about m^e, I v/as suddenly alarmed vrith an admonition from 
some unknown Power: " Gase not idly upon others, when 
thou thyself art sinking. Whence is this thoughtless tranquil- 
lity, Avhen thou and they are equally endangered ?" I looked, 
and seeing the gulph of Intemperance before me, started and 
awoke. 



140 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON LXXL 

The journey of a day ; a picture of human life — Dr. Johnsoiv. 

1. Obidah, the son of Abensina, left the caravansary* early 
in the morning, and pursued his journey through the plains of 
Hindoostan. He was fresh and vigorous with rest ; he was 
animated with hope ; he was incited by desire ; he walked 
swiftly forward over the vallies, and saw the hills gradually 
rising before him. 

2. As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the 
morning song of the bird of paradise ; he was fanned by the 
last flutters of the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with dew by 

groves of spices. He sometimes contemplated the towering 
eightf of the oak, monarch of the hills ; and sometimes caught 
the gentle fragrance of the primrose, eldest daughter of the 
spring : all his senses were gratified, and all care was banished 
from his heart. 

3. Thus he went on, till the sun approached his meridian, 
and the increasing heat preyed upon his strength ; he then look- 
ed round about him for some more commodious path. He saw, 
on his right hand, a grove that seemed to wave its shades as a 
sign of invitation ; he entered it, and found the coolness and 
verdure irresistibly pleasant. 

4. He did not, however, forget whither he was travelling; 
but found a narrow -way bordered with flowers, which appeared 
to have the same direction with the main road ; and was pleas- 
ed, that, by this happy experiment, he had found mean« to unite 
pleasure with business, and to gain the rewards of diligence 
without suflering its fatigues. 

5. He, therefore, still continued to walk for a time, without 
the least remission of his ardor, except that he was sometimes 
tempted to stop by the music of the birds, which the heat had 
assembled in the shade ; and sometimes amused himself with 
plucking the flowers that covered the banks on either side, or 
the fruits that hung upon the branches. At last, the green 
path began to decline from its first tendency, and to wind among 
the hills and thickets, cooled with fountains, and murmuring 
with waterfalls. 

6. Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to consider 
whether it were longer safe to forsake the known and common 
track ; but remembering that the heat was now in ]ts greatest 
violence, and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he resolved 

* A public inii, or tavgrn. t Pronoimceil bite. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 141 

to pursue the new path, which he supposed only to make a few 
meanders,* in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and 
to end at last in the common road. 

7. Having thus calmed his solicitude, he renewed his pace, 
though he suspected that he was not gaining ground. This un- 
easiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new 
object, and give way to every sensation that might soothe or 
divert him. He listened to every echo ; he mounted every hill 
for a fresh prospect ; he turned aside to every cascade ; and 
pleased himself with tracing the course of a gentle river that 
rolled among the trees, and watered a large region with innu- 
merable circumvolutions. 

8. In these amusements, the hours passed away unaccounted ; 
his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not 
towards what point to travel. He stood pensive and confused, 
afraid to go forward, lest he should go wrong ; yet conscious 
that the time of loitering was now past. While he was thus 
tortured with uncertainty, the sky was overspread with clouds ; 
the day vanished from before him ; and a sudden tempest gath- 
ered round his head. 

9. He was now roused by his danger to a quick and painful 
remembrance of" his folly ; he now saw how happiness is lost 
when ease is consulted ; he lamented the unmanly impatience 
that prompted him to seek shelter in the grove ; and despised 
ihe petty curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While 
tie was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thun- 
ier broke his meditation. 

10. He now resolved to do what yet remained in his power, 
to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to fi:nd 
eome issue where the wood might open into the plain. He 
prostrated himself on the ground, and recommended his life to 
the Lord of nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity, 
and pressed on with resolution. The beasts of the desert were 
in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of 
rage and fear, and ravage and expiration. All the horrors of 
darkness and solitude surrounded him : the winds roared in the 
woods ; and the torrents tumbled from the hills. 

11. Thus forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the 
wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he 
was every moment drawing nearer to safety, or to destruction. 
At length, not fear, but labor, began to overcome him ; hio 
breaih grew short, and his knees trembled ; and he v/as on the 

* Meander, the name of a winding river in Phrygia — a winding course. 



113 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

point of lying down in resignation to his fate, when he beheld, 
through the brambles, the glimmer of a taper. 

12. He advanced towards the light ; and finding that it pro- 
ceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the 
door and obtained admission. The old man set before him such 
provisions as he had collected for himself, on which Obidah 
fed with eagerness and gratitude. 

13. When the repast was over, " tell me," said the hermit, 
" by what chance thou hast been brought hither ? I have been 
now twenty years an inhabitant of the wilderness, in which I 
never saw a man before." Obidah then related the occurrences 
of his journey, without any concealment or palliation. 

14. " Son," said the hermit, " let the errors and folHes, the 
dangers and escapes of this day, sink deep into thy heart. Re- 
member, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We 
rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor, and full of expecta- 
tion ; we set forward with spirit and hope, and travel on a while 
with gaiety and with diligence. 

15. " In a short time, we remit our fervor, and endeavor to 
find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means 
of obtaining the same end. We then relax our vigor, and re- 
solve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance ; but 
rely upon our own constancy, and venture to approach what 
we resolve never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, 
and repose in the shades of security. 

16. " Here the heart softens, and vigilance subsides ; we 
are then willing to enquire whether another advance cannot be 
made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon 
the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with scruple and 
hesitation ; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling ; 
and always hope to pass through them without losing the road 
of virtue, which for a while, we keep in our sight, and to which 
we purpose to return. But temptation succeeds temptation, 
and one compliance prepares us for another ; we in time lose 
the happiness of innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual 
gratifications. 

17. " By degrees, we let fall the remembrance of our original 
intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational desire. 
We entangle ourself in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, 
and rove through the labyrinths of inconstancy ; till the dark- 
ness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety 
obstruct our way. We then look back upon our lives with 
horror, with sorrow, with repentance ; and wish, but too often 
vainly wish, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue." 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 143 

18. " Happy are they, my son, who shall learn from thy 
example, not to despair ; but shall remember, that, though the 
day is past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one 
effort to be made : that reformation is never hopeless, nor sin- 
cere endeavors ever unassisted ; that the wanderer may at 
length return after all his errors ; and that he who implores 
strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficul- 
ty give way before him. Go now, my son, to thy repose ; 
commit thyself to the care of omnipotence ; and when the 
morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy 
life." 



LESSON LXXII. 

The Mummy.* — Smith. 

\. And thou hast walk'd about (how strange a story !) 
In Thebes' t streets three thousand years ago, 

When the Memnonium| was in all its glory, 
And time had not begun to overthrow 

Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 

Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 

2. Speak! for thou long enough hast acted Dummy, 
Thou hast a tongue — come let us hear its tune: 
Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy ! 

Revisiting the glimpses of the moon. 
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures. 
But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features. 

* Mummy, a human body embalmed, and wrapped up in linen clothes 
imprecrnated with gums, wax, &c. to prevent its decaying. Mummies are 
found in Egypt, a short distance from Cairo, in vaulted rooms under ground, 
cut in quarries of white stone. I'hey are deposited, some in stone tombs, 
others in chests or coffins made of sicamore wood, which are often adorned 
with many hi-e-ro-glyph-ics, representing the qualities and actions of the 
deceased. They are supposed to ue more than 3,000 years old. 

t Thebes, an ancient city of Egrypt, situated on both sides of the Kile, 
about 2G0 miles south of Cairo. Homer speaks of it as the city of ?n hun- 
dred gates; and Strabo, a writer of the first century, states that its length 
was then 10 miles. But the glory of I'hebes, belongs to a period prior to 
the coniniencement of authentic history. Some suppose it to have been bvnit 
by Osiris, and others, by Busiris, while others think it more ancient. It is 
now inhabited by about 3,000 Arabs, v/ho have taken up their abode among 
its magnificent ruins. 

$Mem-no'-ni-um, a statue ofMemnon, kingof Ethiopia, which had the pro- 
perty of uttering a melo ^'ous sound at sun-rising. 



144 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect, 

To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame ? 
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 

Of either Pyramid* that bears his name ? 
Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? 
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ?t 

4. Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden 

By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade, 
Then say what secret melody was hidden 

In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played ? 
Perhaps thou wert a Priest — if so, my struggles 
Are vam ; — Egyptian priests ne'er o\viied their juggles. 

5. Perchance that very hand, now pinioned fiat. 

Has hob-a-nobb'd with PharaohJ glass to glass ; 
Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat, 

Or doffed thine own to let Queen Didoj] pass, 
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 
A torch at the great Temple's dedication. 

6. I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 

Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled, 
For thon wert dead, and buried, and embalmed. 

Ere Romulus and Remus§ had been suckled ; — 
Antiquity appears to have begun 
Long after thy primeval race was run. 

7. Since first thy form was in this box extenddd, 

We have, above ground, seen some strange mentations ; 
The Roman empire has begun and ended ; 

New Avorlds have risen — we have lost old nations. 
And countless kings have into dust been humbled. 
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

* Pyr-a-mid, a large, solid body, or edifice, standincr on a square or trian- 

fular base, and terminating in a point at the top. The PjTaraids of Egypt 
ave been the wonder of all ages of the world. The largest of them is that 
of Cheops, near Cairo. It is 500 feet high, and covers more than 11 acres. 
When, and for what purpose they were built, is unknown. 

t Homer, a celebrated Grecian poet, who lived about 907 B. C. 

t Pronounced Fa'-ro, an ancient king of Egypt. 

K Dido, founder of the Carthaginian Empire, 869 B. C. 

§ Romulus and Remus, founders of the Roman Empire, 752 B.C. TLey 
were thrown, when infants, into the Tiber, but the river stopped, and a she- 
wolf came and fed them with her milk. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 115 

8. Didst thou not Lear the pother o'er thy head 

When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,* 
March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 

O'erthrew Osiris,t Orus,t Apis,t Isis,t 
And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder, 

When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? 

9. If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, 

The nature of thy private life unfold ; — 
A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast, 

And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled : — 
Have children climb'd those knees, and kiss'd that face ? 
What v/as thy name and station, age and race ? 

10. Statue of flesh — -immortal of the dead ! 
Imperishable type of evanescence ! 

Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, 
And standest undecayed within our presence, 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the .Judgment mornhig. 
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 

11. Why should this worthless tegument endure, 
If its undying guest be lost for ever ? 

O let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 

In living virtue ; that when both must sever, 
Although corruption may our frame consume, 
Th' immortal spirit in the skies m.ay bloom. 



LESSON LXXIII. 

The Negroes Complaint. — Cowper. 

1. Forc'd from home and all its pleasures, 

Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
To increase a stranger's treasures. 

O'er the raging billows borne. 
Men from England bought and sold me. 

Paid my price in paltry gold ; 
But though slave they have enroU'd me, 

Minds are never to be sold. 

*Caml)yses, the son of Cyrus the Great, was king of Persia, B. C. 529. 
He made war against the Egyptians, and ravaged their country in a mo^ 
barbarous manner. He was cruel and vindictive in the extreme. He died 
in liie eighth year of his reign, B. C. 521. 

t An Eiryptian god. 

*' 13 



146 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. Still in thought as free as ever, 

What are England's rights I ask, 
Me from my delights to sever, 

Me to torture, me to task ? 
Fleecy locks and black complexion 

Cannot forfeit nature's claim ; 
Skins may differ, but affection 

Dwells in white and black the same. 

3. Why did all-creating nature 

Make the plant for which we toil ? 
Sighs must fan it, tears must water, 

Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, 

Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
Think how many backs have smarted 

For the sweets your cane affords. 

4. Is there, as ye sometimes tell us. 

Is there one who reigns on high ? 
Has he bid you buy and sell us. 

Speaking from his throne, the sky ? 
Ask him, if your knotted scourges, 

Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
Are the means that duty urges, 

Agents of his will to use ? 

5. Hark ! he answers — wild tornadoes,* 

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
Wasting towns, plantations, meau9ws, 

Are the voice with which he speaks. 
He, foreseeing what vexations 

Afric's sons should undergo, 
Fix'd their tyrants' habitations 

Where his whirlwinds answer — ^No. 

6. By our blood in Afric wasted. 

Ere our necks receiv'd the chain ; 
By the mis'ries that we tasted. 

Crossing in your barks the main ; 
By our sufferings since ye brought us 

To the man-degrading mart ; 
All sustain'd by patience, taught us 

Only by a broken heart. 

* Tornado, a violent wind, a hurricane. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. H7 

, Deem our nation brutes no longer, 

Till some reason ye shall find 
Worthier of regard, and stronger 

Than the color of our kind. 
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings 

Tarnish all your boasted pow'rs, 
Prove that you have human feelings, 

Ere you proudly question ours. 



LESSON LXXIV. ? ^ . 

Victory. — Anonymous. 

L Waft not to me the blast of fame, 
That swells the trump of victory ; 
For to my ear it gives the name 
Of slaughter and of misery. 

2. Boast not so much of honor's sword ; 

Wave not so high the victor's plume ; 
They point me to the bosom gor'd — 

They point me to the blood-stain'd tomb, 

3. The boastful sliout, the revel loud. 

That strive to drown the voice of pain ; 
What are they, but the fickle crowd, 
Rejoicing o'er their brethren slain? 

4. And ah ! through glory's fading blaze, 

I see the cottage taper, pale, 
Which sheds its faint and feeble rays, 
Where unprotected orphans wail — 

5. Where the sad widow weeping stands, 

As if her day of hope was done — 
Where the wild mother clasps her hands- 
And asks the victor for her son — 

6; Wliere the lone maid, in secret, sighs 
O'er the lost solace of her heart. 
As prostrate, in despair, she lies. 
And feels her tortur'd life depart ! 

7. Where, midst that desolated land, 
The sire, lamenting o'er his son, 
Extends his weak and powerless hand. 
And finds his only prop is gone. 



HS NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

8. See, how the bands of war and wo 
Have rifled sweet domestic bliss ; 
And tell me, if your laurels grow, 
And flourish in a soil like this ! 



LESSON LXXV. 7 -^'^ 
Destruction of Jerusalem.* 

1. Jerusalem was built on tv/o mountains, and surrounded 
by three walls on every side, except where it was enclosed with 
deep valleys, which were deemed inaccessible. Each wall was 
fortified by high towers. The celebrated temple, and strong 
castle of Antonia, were on the east side of the city, and directly 
opposite to the Mount of Olives. But notwithstanding the pro- 
digious strength of this famed metropolis, the infatuated Jews 
brought on their own destruction by their intestine contests. 

2. At a time when a formidable army was rapidly advancing, 
and the Jews were assembling from all parts to keep the pass- 
over, the contending factions were continually inventing new 
methods of mutual destruction, and in their ungoverned fury 
they wasted and destroyed such vast quantities of provisions as 
might have preserved the city many years. 

3. Such was the miserable situation of Jerusalem, when 
Titusf began his march towards it Avith a formidable army; and 

* Moses led the Jews out of Egypt, 1491 B. C. They wandered 40 years 
in the wilderness, and entered the land of Canaan, or Palestine, under Joshua, 
1451 B. C. After the death of Joshua, which happened 1426 B. C, they 
were governed 351 years by Judges, when they wished for a king. Saul 
•was chosen, and anointed king over them 1075 B, C. He was succeeded 
by David in 1056 B. C, David was succeeded by Solomon in 1015 B. C 
Solomon was succeeded by Rehoboam 975 B. C. The same year, ten of 
the Jewish tribes revolted, and established the kingdom of Israel, and chose 
Jeroboam for their kino;. In 721 B. C, Shalmaneser, of Assyria, conquered 
the ten tribes and carried them into captivity, which put an end to the king- 
dom of Israel. The two tribes, viz. the tribes of J udah and Benjamin, form- 
ed the kingdom of Judah. They were often conquered by the suiTounding 
nations, but soon regained their liberty. In 63 B. C. Pompey, a celebrated 
Roman General, marched an army against Jerusalem, and took it, after a 
siege of three months. From that period, the Jews became dependent on the 
Romans: — and after the death of Herod the Great, in A. D. 1, Judea be- 
came a Roman province, and had rulers appointed by the Emperors of Rome. 
The rapine and cruelty of the Roman governors, caused the Jews at length 
to rebel ; — and Titus, a Roman General, marched an army of 60,000 men 
against them, A. D. 70, and destroyed the Jewish nation. From that time, 
the Jews have been scattered, contemned, persecuted, and despised among 
all nations. 

t Titus Vespasian, a distinguished Roman general — afterwards emperor 
of Rome. He died A. D- 81. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 149 

having laid waste the country in his progress, and slaughtered 
the inhabitants, arrived before its walls. The sight of the 
Romans produced a temporary reconciliation among the con- 
tending factions, and they unanimously resolved to oppose the 
common enemy. 

4. Their first sally was accordingly made with such fury and 
resolution, that, though Titus displayed uncommon valor on this 
occasion, the besiegers v^^ere obliged to abandon their camps, and 
flee to the mountains. No sooner had the Jews a short interval 
of quiet from their foreign enemies, than their civil disorders 
v/ere renewed. John, by an impious stratagem, found means 
to cut off, or force Eleazer's men to submit to him ; and the 
factions were again reduced to two, who opposed each other 
with implacable animosity. 

5. The Romans, in tlie mean time, exerted all their energy 
in making preparations for a powerful attack upon Jerusalem. 
Trees were cut down, houses levelled, rocks cleft asunder, and 
valleys filled up; towers were raised, andbatteringrams erected, 
with other engines of destruction, against the devoted city. 

6. After the ofiers of peace, which Titus had repeatedly sent 
by Josephus,* were rejected with indignation, the Romans be- 
gan to play their engines with all their might. The strenuous 
attacks of the enemy again united the contending parties within 
the walls, who had also engines, which they plied with uncom- 
mon fury. They had taken themx lately from Cestius, but were 
so ignorant of their use, they did little execution, while the 
Roman legions made terrible havoc. 

7. The Jews were soon compelled to retire from the ponder- 
ous stones, which the Romans threwincessantly from the towers 
they had erected, and the battering rams were at full liberty to 
play against the wails. A breach was soon made in it, at which 
the Romans entered and encamped in the cit}^ while the Jews 
retreated behind the second enclosure. 

8. The victors immediately advanced to the second wall, 
and plied their engines and battering rams so furiously, that 
one of the towers they had erected began to shake, and the 
Jews, who occupied it, perceiving their impending ruin, set it 

* Flavins Josephus, the ancient historian of the Jews, was born at Jeru- 
salem, A. D. 37, and died in A. D. 93. He studied at Rome, and after- 
wards bravely defended a small town of Judea against the Romans for seven 
weeks. The place being taken, Josephus delivered himself up to the Ro- 
mans, and was received into great favor, and accompanied Titus at the si^e 
of Jerusalem, where he alleviated the misfortunes of his country, and ob- 
tain'jd the sacred books of his nation. 

13* 



150 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

on fire, and precipitated themselves into the flames. The fa]] 
of this structure gave the Romans an entrance into the second 
enclosure. 

9. They were, however, repulsed by the besieged ; but at 
length regained the place entirely, and prepared for attacking 
the third and inner wall. The vast number of people which 
were enclosed in Jerusalem, occasioned a famine, which raged 
in a terrible m.anner ; and, as their calamities increased, tlie 
fury of the zealots,* if possible, rose to a greater height. 

10. They forced open the houses of their fellow citizens, in 
search of provisions ; if they found any, they inflicted the most 
exquisite tortures upon them, underpretence that they had food 
concealed. The nearest relations, in the extremity of hunger, 
snatched the food from each other. 

11. Josephus, who was an eye-witness of the unparalleled 
sufferings the Jews experienced during the siege of their metro- 
polis, remarks, that "all the calamities that ever befelany nation 
since the beginning of the v.'orld, were inferior to the miseries of 
his countrymen at this awful period." Thus we see the exact 
fulfilment of the emphatic Vv^ords of our Saviour respecting the 
great tribulation in Jerusalem. '■''For then shall he great trihu- 
lation, such as vjas net since the heglnning of the world to this 
time, no, nor ever shall Z)e." 

12. Titus, who was apprized of their wretched condition, 
relaxed the siege four days ; and being still desirous of saving 
the city, caused provisions to be distributed to his army in siffht 
of the Jews, who flocked upon the walls to behold it. Josephus 
was next sent to his countrym_en, to attempt to persuade them 
not to plunge them.selves in inevitable ruin, by persisting in 
defence of a place which could hold out but little longer, and 
which the Romans looked upon as already their own. 

13. Pie exhorted them, in the most pathetic terms, to save 
themselves, their temple, and their country ; and painted in 
strong colors the fatal effects v/hich v/oulcl result from their 
obstinacy. But the people, after many bitter invectives, began 
to dart their arrows at him ; yet he continued to addre'^s them 
with greater vehemence, and many Avere induced, by his elo- 
quence, to run the utmost risk in order to escape to the Romans ; 
while others became more desperate, and resolved to hold out 
to the last extremity. 

14. The Jews, who were forcibly seized by the Romans 
-without the walls, and who made the utmost resistance for fear 

* Zealot, one who engages warmly iu a cause, and pursues it with an in- 
temperate ardor. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 151 

of punishment, were scourged and crucified near the city.— ^ 
Famine made them, so daring in these excursions, that five 
hundred, and sometimes more, suffered this dreadful death every- 
day ; and, on account of the number, Josephus observes, that 
" space was wanted for the crosses, and crosses for the captives.'* 
And yet, contrary to Titus' intention, the seditious Jews were 
not disposed to surrender by these horrid spectacles. 

15. In order to check desertion, they represented the sufFer- 
ers as suppliants, and not as men taken by resistance. Yet 
even somxc, who deemed capital punishment inevitable, escaped 
to the Romans, considering death, by the hands of their enemies^ 
a desirable refuge, when com.pared with the complicated distress 
which they endured. 

16. And though Titus mutilated many, and sent them to 
assure the people that voluntary deserters were well treated by 
him, and earnestly to recommend a surrender of the city, the 
Jews reviled Titus from the wails, defied his menaces, and 
continued to defend the city by every method which stratagem, 
courage^ a,nd despair, could suggest. 

17. in order to accelerate tne destined ruin of Jerusalem, 
Titus, discouraged and exasperated by the repeated destruction 
of his engines and towers, undertook the arduous task of en- 
closing the city with a strong wall, in order to prevent the 
inhabitants from receiving any succor from the adjacent coun- 
try, or eluding his vengeance by flight. 

18« Such was the persevering spirit of the soldiers, that in 
three days they enclosed the city by a wall nearly five miles in 
circuit. Thus was the prophecy of our Saviour accomplished : 
" The days shall come wpon thee, wheji thine enemies shall 
cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep 
thee in on every side.''^ 

19. Upon this, the famine raged with augmented violence, 
and destroyed whole families ; while Jerusalem exhibited a 
horrid spectacle of emaciated invalids and putrescent bodies. 
The dead were too numerous to be interred ; and many expir- 
ed in the performance of this office. The public calamity was 
too great for lamentation, and the silence of unutterable wo 
overspread the city. 

20. The zealots, at this awful period, endeavored to encour- 
age the obstinacy of the people, by hiring a set of wretches, 
pretenders to prophecy, to go about the city, and declare the 
near approach of a speedy and miraculous deliverance. This 
impious stratagem for a while afforded delusive hopes to the 
miserable remains of the Jewish nation. But at length an 



152 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

affair took place in Jerusalem, which filled the inhabitants with 
consternation and despair ; and the Romans with horror and 
indignation. 

21. A Jewess, eminent for birth and opulence, rendered 
frantic with her sufferings, was reduced to the dreadful ex- 
tremity of killing and feeding upon her infant. Titus, being 
apprized of this inhuman deed, swore the total extirpation of 
the accursed city and people ; and called lieaven to witness, 
that he was not the author of their calamity. 



LESSON LXXVL V ^^ 
Destruction of Jerusalem — concluded. 

1. The Romans having pursued the attack with the utmost 
rigor, advanced their last engines against the walls, after having 
converted into a desert, for wood to construct them, a country 
well planted, and interspersed Avith gardens, for more than 
eleven miles round the city. They scaled tlie inner wall, and 
after a sanguinary encounter, made themselves masters of the 
fortress of Antonia. 

2. Still, however, not only the zealots, but m.any of tlie 
people, were yet so blinded, that though nothing v,-as now left 
but the temple, and the Romans were making formidable pre- 
paration to batter it down, they could not persuade themselves 
that God would suffer that holy place to be taken by the hea- 
thens ; but still expected a miraculous deliverance. And though 
the war was advancing towards the temple, they themselves 
burnt the portico, v,^hich joined it to Antonia ; which occasion- 
ed Titus to remark, that they began to destroy, Avith their own 
hands, that magnificent edifice, which he had preserved. 

3. The- Roman commander had determined in council not 
to burn the temple, considering the existence of so proud a 
structure an honor to himself He therefore attempted to bat- 
ter dovvn one of the galleries of the precinct; but as the strengtli 
of the wall eluded the force of all his engines, the troops next 
endeavored to scale it, but were repulsed with considerable 
loss. 

4. When Titus found, that his desire of saving the sacred 
building was likely to cost many lives, he set fire to the gates 
of the outer temple, Avhich being ])lated with silver, burnt all 
night, and the flame rapidly communicated to the adjacent 
galleries and porticoes. Titus, Avho was still desirous of pre- 
serving the temple, caused the flames to be extinguished ; and 



NATIONAL PiiECEPTOR. 153 

appeased the clamors of his troops, who vehemently insisted on 
the necessity of razing it to the ground. The following day 
was therefore fixed upon, for a general assault upon that magni- 
ficent structure. 

5. The utmost exertions of Titus to save the temple were, 
however, ineffectual. Our Saviour had foretold its total destruc- 
tion ; and his awful prediction was about to be accomplished. 
" And now," says Josephus, " the fatal day approached in the 
revolution of ages, the 10th of August, emphatically called the 
day of vengeance, in v/hich the first temple had been destroyed 
by the king of Babylon."* 

6. While Titus was reposing himself in his pavilion, a Ro- 
man soldier, without receiving any command, but urged as it 
were by a divine impulse, seized some of the blazing materials, 
and with the assistance of another soldier, who raised him from 
the ground, threv/ them through a window into one of the apart- 
ments that surrounded the sanctuary. 

7. The whole north side, up to the third story, was imme- 
diately enveloped in flames. The Jews, who now began to 
suppose that Ileaven had forsaken them, rushed in with violent 
lamentations, and spared no effort, not even life itself, to 
preserve the sacred edifice on which they had rested their 
security. 

8. Titus, being awakened by the outcry, hastened to the spot, 
and commanded his soldiers to exert themselves to the utmost 
to extinguish the fire. He called, pra3v'ed, and threatened his 
men. But so great v/as the clamor and tumult, that his entrea- 
ties and menaces v/ere alike disregarded. 

9. The exasperated Romans, who resorted thither from the 
camp, v\^ere engaged either in increasing the conflagration, or 
killing the Jews ; the dead v/ere heaped about the altar, and a 
stream of blood flowed at its steps. 

10. Still, as the flames had not reached the inner part of the 
temple, Titus, with some of his chief officers, entered the sanc- 
tuary and most holy place, which excited his astonishment and 
admiration. After having in vain repeated his attempts to 
prevent its destruction, he saved the golden candlestick, and 

* Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, took Jerusalem — destroyed the teiu- 
ple — and carried the Jews into captivity, B.C. 606. After they had been 
kept in bondage 70 years, Cyrus the Great, king of Persia, took Babylon, 
and set them at liberty, B. C. 536. The Jews then returned to Jerusalem, 
and built the second temple. l^\\e first temple was finished and dedicated 
by Solomon, B. C. 1004, — the second temple was finished and dedicated 
B. C. 515. 



lU NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

table of shew bread, the altar of perfumes, which were all of 
pure gold ; and the volume of the law, wrapped up in a rich 
golden tissue. Upon his leaving the sacred place, some other 
soldiers set fire to it, after tearing off the golden plating from 
the gates and timber work. 

11. A horrid massacre soon followed, in which prodigious 
multitudes perished ; while others rushed, in a kind of frenzy, 
into the midst of the flames, and precipitated themselves from 
the battlements of their falling temple. Six thousand persons, 
who, deluded by a false prophet with the hopes of a miraculous 
deliverance, had fled to a gallery yet standing without the tem- 
ple, perished at once, by the relentless barbarity of the soldiers, 
who set it on fire, and suftered none to escape. 

12. The conquerors carried their fury to such a height as to 
massacre all they met, without distinction of age, sex,or quality. 
They also burnt all the treasure houses, containing vast quanti- 
ties of money, plate, and the richest furniture. In a word, they 
continued to mark their progress with fire and sword, till they 
had destroyed all, except two of the temple gates, and that part 
of the court which was destined for the women. 

13. In the mean time, many of the zealots, by making the 
most vigorous exertions, effected their escape from the temple, 
and retired into the city. But the avenues were so strictly 
'guarded, tliat it was impossible for them to escape. They 
therefore fortified themselves, as well as they were able, on 
the south side of it ; from whence John and Simon sent to de- 
sire a conference with Titus. 

14. They were answered, that though they had caused all 
this ruin and efRision of blood, yet their lives should be spared, 
if they v/ould surrender themselves. They replied, that " they 
had engaged by the most solemm oaths, not to deliver up their 
persons to hira on any condition ; and requested permission to 
retire to the mountains with their wives and children." The 
Roman General, enraged at this insolence, ordered proclama- 
tion to be made, that not one of them should be spared, since 
they persisted in rejecting his last offers of pardon. 

15. The daughter of Zion, or the lower city, was next aban- 
doned to the fury of the Roman soldiers, who plundered, burnt, 
and massacred, with insatiable rage. The zealots next betook 
themselves to the royal palace, in the upper and stronger part 
of Jerusalem, styled also the city of David, on Mount Zion. 
As many of the Jews had deposited their possessions in the pa- 
lace for security, they attacked it, killed eight thousand four 
hundred of their countrymen, and plundered their property. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 155 

16. The Roman army spent nearly twenty days in making 
great preparations for attacking the upper city, especially the 
royal palace ; during which time many came and made their 
submission to Titus. The warlike engines then played so furi- 
ously upon the zealots, that they were seized with a sudden" 
panic, quitted the towers which were deemed impregnable, and 
ran like mad men towards Shiloah, intending to have attacked 
the w^all of circumvallation, and escaped out of the city. But 
being vigorously repulsed, they endeavored to conceal them- 
selves in subterraneous passages ; and as many as were discov- 
ered, were put to death. 

17. The coi.puest of Jerusalem being now completed, the 
Romans placed their ensigns upon the walls with triumphant 
jo}^ They next walked the streets, with swords in their hands, 
and killed all they met. Amidst the darkness of that awful 
night, fire was set to the remaining divisions of the city, and 
Jerusalem., ^^rapt in flames, and bleeding on every side, sunk 
in utter ruin and destruction. 

18. During the siege, which lasted nearly five months, up- 
wards of eleven hundred thousand Jews perished. John and 
Simon, the tv/o grand rebels, with seven hundred of the most 
beautiful and vigorous of the Jewish youth, were reserved, to 
attend the victor's triumphal chariot. After which, Simon was 
put to death ; and John, who had stooped to beg his life, con- 
demned to perpetual imprisonment. 

19. The number who were taken captive, during the fatal 
contest with the Romans, amounted to ninety-seven thousand ; 
many of whom were sent into Syria, and other provinces, to be 
exposed on the public theatres, to fight like gladiators, or to be 
devoured by wild beasts. The number of those destroyed, 
during the war, which lasted seven years, is computed to have 
been one million four hundred and sixty-two thousand. 

20. When the sword had returned to its scabbard, for want 
of objects whereon to exercise its fury, and the troops v/ere sat- 
isfied with plunder, Titus commanded the whole city and temple 
to be demolished. Thus were our Saviour's prophecies fulfilled 
— " Thine enemies shall lay thee even loith the ground, and 
there shall not he left one stone upon another.'''* 

* Jerusalem was taken and destroyed by the Romans under Titus, thirty- 
seven years after the crucifixion of our Saviour. 



158 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON LXXYII. ;. 
Tiie Warrior^s Wreath. — Anonymous. 

1. Behold the wreath which decks the warrior's brow 
Breathes it a bahny fragrance sweet? Ah, no !. 

It rankly savors of the grave ! 
'Tis red — but not with roseate hues ; 

'Tis crimsoned o'er 

With human gore ! 
'Tis iret — but not with heavenly dews ; 

2. 'Tis drench'd in tears by widows, orphans shed. 
Methinks in sable weeds I see them clad. 

And mourn in vain, for husbands slain, 
Children belov'd, or brothers dear, 

The fatherless 

In deep distress, 
Despairing, shed the scalding tear. 

3. I hear, 'mid dying groans, the cannon's crash, 
I see, 'mid smoke, the musket's horrid flash — 

Here famine walks — there carnage stalks — 
Hell in her fiery eye, she stains 

With purple blood, 

The crystal flood. 
Heaven's altars, and the verdant plains ! 

4. Scenes of domestic peace and social bliss 

Are chang'd to scenes of wo and wretchedness, 

The votaries of vice increase — 
Towns sack'd — whole cities wrapt in flame ! 

Just Heaven ! say. 

Is this the bay, 
Which warriors gain ? — is this cali'd FAME ? 



LESSON LXXVIII. 

Elegy vjritfen in a Country Church Yard. — Gra? 

The curfew tolls — the knell of parting day ; — 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ;* 

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 



Lea, a meadow, or plain. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 167 

2. Now fades the glimmering lands"cape on the sight, 

And all the air a solemn stillness holds ; 
Save where the beetle* wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 

3. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 

The moping owl does to the moon complain 
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 

4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 

Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. 

The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shed. 
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn. 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. 

Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 

7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield ; 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 
How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 

How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke I 

8. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 

Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; 

Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 

The short and simple annals of the poor. 

9. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. 

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
Await, alike, the inevitable hour ; — 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave. • 

10. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, 

If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise. 
Where, through the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault, 
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 

11. Can storied urn, or animated bust, 

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 

♦ Beetle, an insect. 

14 



159 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 
Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ? 

13. Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid 

Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire ; 
Hands, that the rod of empire might hax-^e swayed, 
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : 

13. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 

Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 
Chill Penury repressed their noble rage. 
And froze the genial current of the soul. 

14. Full many a gem, of purest ray serene. 

The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; 
Full many a flov/er is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

15. Some village Hampden,* that, with dauntless breast, 

The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; 
Some mute, inglorious Miltonf here may rest ; 
Some Cromwell,J guiltless of his country's blood, 

16. The applause of listening senates to command. 

The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land. 

And read their history in a nation's eyes ; 

17. Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone 

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; — 
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne. 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; 

18. The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide. 

To quench the blushes of ingenuous Shame; 
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride 
With incense kindled at the muse's flame. 

* John Hampden, an illustrious patriot and poiitical writer in the reign 
of Charles I. He was a man of undaunted courage ; — and in 1636. he had 
the boldness, alone, and unsupported, to resist the royal authority in levying 
ship-money, and although he lost his cause, he was highly applauded by all 
for his firmness. He died 1643. 

t John Milton, an English poet, born 1608. The most celebrated work 
which he wrote, is " Paradise Lost." 

t Oliver Cromwell, a distinguished English General, was born 1599. — 
After the death of Charles I., he assumed the title of " Protector of the 
Commonwealth of England," 1653. He administered the 8fFairs of the 
kingdom for five years, with great vigor and ability. He died in 1658. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 169 

19 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Their sober wishes never learned to stray : 
Along the cool, sequestered vale of life 
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 

20. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, 

Some frail memorial, still erected nigh, 
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 

21. Their name, their years; spelled by the unlettered muse, 

The place of fame and elegy supply ; 

And many a holy text around she strews, 

That teach the rustic moralist to die. 

22. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 

This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, — 
Left the warm precincts of the clieerful day, — 
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 

23. On some fond breast the parting soul relies : 

Some pious drops the closing eye requires : 
Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

24. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead, 

Dost in these lines their artless tale relate. 
If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led. 
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate. 

25. Haply, some hoary-headed swain may say, 

" Oit have we seen him, at the peep of dawn, 
Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away. 
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 

26. " There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech. 

That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high. 
His listless length at noontide would he stretch. 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 

27. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn. 

Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 
Now drooping, Avoful wan, like one forlorn. 

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 

28. " One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill, 

Along the heath, and near his favorite tree : 
Another came ; nor yet beside the rill. 

Nor up the lawn, nor at the Avood, was he : 



160 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

29. " The next, witli dirges due, in sad array, 

Slow through the church- waj- path we saw him borne. 
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, 
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 

THE EPITAPH. 

30. Here rests his head, upon the lap of earth, 

A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown : 
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth. 
And Melancholy marked him for her own. 

81. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere : 

Heaven did a recompense as largely send : — 
He gave to misery all he had — a tear ; 

He gained from heaven — 'twas all he wished — a friend. 

32. No farther seek his merits to disclose, 

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode — 
(There they, alike, in trembling hope, repose,) 
The bosom of his Father and his God, 



LESSON LXXIX. 
Ossiaji's* Address to the Sun. 

i. O THOU that rollest above, round as the shield of my 
fathers ! Whence are thy beam.s, O sun ! thy everlasting light? 
Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty, and the stars hide 
themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the 
western wave. But thou thyself movest alone : v>^ho can be a 
companion of thy course ? The oaks of the mountains fall ; the 
mountains themselves decay with years ; the ocean shrinks and 
grows again ; the mocn herself is lost in heaven ; but thou art 
for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. 

2. When the world is dark with tempests ; when thunder 
rolls, and lightning flies ; thou lookest in thy beauty, from the 
clouds, and iaughest at the storm. But to Ossian, thou lookest 
in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more ; whether thy yellow 
hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates 
of the wesi,. But thou art perhaps, like me, for a season, and 
thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, 
careless of the voice of the morning. 

* Ossian, aii ancient Scotch, or Gaelic poet, supposed to have flourished 
m the second century, and to have been the son of Fingal. Hi<^ f"^cms were 
translated by Mr, I^.i'Pherson, in 1762. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 161 

3. Exult then, O sun, in the strength of thy youth ! Age is 
dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon, 
when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the 
hills ; the blast of the north is on the plain, the traveller shrinks 
m the midst of his journey. 



LESSON LXXX. 
The African Chief. — U. S. Literary Gazette, 

1. Chain'd in the market-place he stood, 

A man of giant frame. 
Amid the gathering multitude 

That shrunk to hear his name,— 
All stern of look and strong of limb, 

His dark eye on the ground ; 
And silently they gaz'd on him, 

As on a lion bound. 

2. Vainly, but well, that chief had fought — 

He was a captive now ; 
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, 

Was written on his brow : 
The scars his dark broad bosom wore 

Showed warrior true and brave ; 
A prince among his tribe before, 

He could not be a slave. 

3. Then to his conqueror he spake, 

" My brother is a king : 
Undo this necklace from my neck, 

And take this bracelet ring. 
And send me where my brother reigns, 

And I vdW fill thy hands 
With store of ivory from the plains, 

And gold dust from the sands." 

4. " Not for thy ivory nor thy gold 

Will I unbind thy chain ; 
That bloody hand shall never hold 

The battle-spear again. 
A price thy nation never gave 

Shall yet be paid for thee ; 
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave. 

In land beyond the sea." 
14* 



162 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

5. Tli'ln wept the warrior chief, and bade 

To shred his locks away ; 
And, one by one, each heavy braid 

Before the victor lay. 
Thick were the platted locks, and long, 

And deftly hidden there 
Shone many a wedge of gold among 

The dark and crisped hair. 

G. " Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold, 

Long kept for sorest need : 
Take it — thon askest sums untold — 

And say that I am freed. 
Take it — my wife, the long, long day, 

Weeps by the cocoa tree. 
And my young children leave their play, 

And ask in vain for me." 

7. " I take thy gold, — but I have made 

Thy fetters fast and strong. 
And ween* that by the cocoa shade 

Thy wife shall wait thee long." 
Strong was the agony that shook 

The captive's frame to hear. 
And the proud meaning of his look 

Was chang'd to mortal fear. 

8. His heart was broken — craz'd his brain- 

At once his eye grew wild : 
He struggled fiercely with his chain, 

Whispcr'd, — and wept, — and smil'd ; 
Yet wore not long those fatal bands, 

And once, at shut of day. 
They drew him forth upon the sands, 

The foul hyena'sf prey. 



LESSON LXXXI. 

Formation of Character. — J. Hawes, D. D. 

\. It is ever to be kept in mind, that a good name is in all 
cases the fruit of -personal exertion. It is not inherited from 

* Ween, to think, to imagine, to fancy. 

t The Hy-e-na is a most hateful and disgusting animal, about the size of 
a large dog. He is found in Asia and Africa. He nrefers to eat the flesh 
of animals in a putrid state 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 163 

parents ; it is not created by external advantages ; it is no 
necessary appendage of birth, or wealth, or talents, or station ; 
but the result of one's own endeavors, — the fruit and reward of 
good principles, manifested in a course of virtuous andhonorable 
action. This is the more important to be remarked, because it 
shows that the attainment of a good name, whatever be your 
external circumstances, is entirely within your power. 

2. No young man, however humble his birth, or obscure his 
condition, is excluded from the invaluable boon. He has only 
to fix his eye upon the prize, and press towards it, in a course 
of virtuous and useful conduct, and it is his. And it is interest- 
ing to notice how many of our worthiest and best citizens have 
risen to honor and usefulness by dint of their own persevering 
exertions. They are to be found, in great numbers, in each of 
the learned professions, and in every department of business : 
and they stand forth, bright and animating examples of what 
can be accomplished by resolution and effort. 

8. Indeed, my friends, in the formation of character, personal 
exertion is the first, the second, and the third virtue. Nothing 
great or excellent can be acquired without it. A good name 
will not come without being sought. All the virtues of which it 
is composed are the result of untiring application and industry. 
Nothing can be more fatal to the attainment of a good character 
than a treacherous confidence in external advantages. These, 
if not seconded by your own endeavors, " will drop you mid 
way : or perhaps you wil] not have started, when the diligent 
traveller will have won the race." 

4. To the formation of a good character, it is of the highest 
importance that you have a commanding object in view, and 
that your aim in life be elevated. To this cause, perhaps, 
more than to any other, is to be ascribed the great difference 
which appears in the -characters of men. Some start in life 
with an object in view, and are determined to attain it ; whilst 
others live without plan, and reach not for the prize set before 
them. The energies of the one are called into vigorous action, 
and they rise to eminence ; whilst the others are left to slumber 
in ignoble ease and sink into obscurity. 

5. It is an old proverb, that he who aims at the sun, to he 
sure will not reach it, but his arrow will fly higher than if he 
aimed at an object on a level with himself. Just so in the for- 
mation of character. Set your standard high ; and, though you 
may not reach it, you can hardly fail to rise higher than if yon 
aimed at some inferior excellence. Young men are not, in gen- 
eral, conscious of what they are capable of doing. 



164 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

6. They do not task their faculties, nor improve their powers, 
nor attempt, as they ought, to rise to superior excellence. They 
havenohiffh, commanding object, at which to aim ; but often 
seem to be passing away life without object and without aim. 
The consequence is, their efforts are few and feeble ; they are 
not waked up to anything great or distinguished ; and therefore 
fail to acquire a character of decided worth. 

7. My friends, You maij he wJiatever you resolve to he. — 
Resolution is omnipotent. Determine that you will be some- 
thing in the Avorld, and you shall be something. Aim at excel- 
lence, and excellence will be attained. This is the great secret 
of effort and eminence. I cannot do it, never accomplished any 
thing ; I will try, has wrought wonders. 

8. You have all perhaps heard of the young man, who, hav- 
ing wasted, in a short tim.e, a large patrim.ony, in profligate 
revels, formed a purpose, while hanging over the brow of a 
precipice from which he had determined to throw himself, that 
he would regain what he had lost. The purpose thus formed 
he kept ; and though he began by shovelling a load of coals 
into a cellar, he proceeded from one step to another, till he 
more than recovered his lost possession, and died an inveterate 
miser, worth sixty thousand pounds. 

9. I mention this, not as an example to be imitated, but as 
a signal instance of what can be accomplished by fixed purpose 
and persevering exertion. A young man who sets out in life 
with a determination to excel, can hardly fail of his purpose. 
There is, in his case, a steadiness of aim, — a concentration of 
feeling and effort, which bear him onward to his object with 
irresistible energy, and render success, in whatever he under- 
takes, certain. 



LESSON LXXXII. 

On Happiness of Temper. — Goldsmith. 

L Writers of every age have endeavored to sliov/ — thai 
pleasure is in us, and not in the objects offered for our amuse 
ment. If the soul be happily disposed, every thing becomes 
capable of affording entertainment ; and distress will almost 
want a name. Every occurrence passes in review, like the 
figures of a procession; some may be awkward, others ill dress- 
ed ; but none but a fool is, for this, enraged with the master 
of the ceremonies. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 165 

2. I remember to have once seen a slave, in a fortification in 
Flanders, who appeared no way touched with his situation. 
He was maimed, deformed, and chained ; obliged to toil from 
the appearance of day till night-fall, and condemned to this for 
life ; yet, with all these circumstances of apparent wretched- 
ness, he sung, would have danced, but that he wanted a leg, 
and appeared the merriest, happiest man of all the garrison. 

3. What a practical philosophy w^as here ! a happy consti- 
tution supplied philosophy ; and though seemingly destitute of 
wisdom, he was really wise. No reading or study had contri- 
buted to disenchant the fairy-land around him. Every thing 
furnished him with an opportunity of mirth ; and though some 
thought him, from his insensibility, a fool — he was such an 
idiot as philosophers should Avish to imitate ; for all philosophy 
is only forcing the trade of happiness, when Nature seems to 
deny the means. 

4. They who, like our slave, can place themselves on that 
side of the world in which every thing appears in a pleasing 
light, will find something in every occurrence to excite their 
good humor. The most calamitous events either to themselves 
or others, can bring no new affliction ; the whole world is, to 
them, a theatre, on v/hich comedies only are acted. All the 
bustle of heroism, or the rants of ambition, serve only to heigh- 
ten the absurdity of the scene, and make the humor more poig- 
nant. They feel, in short, as little anguish at their own dis- 
tress, or the complaints of others, as the undertaker, though 
dressed in black, feels sorrow at a funeral. 

5. Of all the men I ever read of, the famous Cardinal de Retz 
possessed this happiness of temper in the highest degree. As 
he was a man of gallantry, and despised all that wore the pe- 
dantic appearance of philosophy, wherever pleasure was to b e 
sold, he was generally foremost to raise the auction. Being a 
universal admirer of the fair sex — w^hen he found one lady cruel, 
he generally fell in love with another, from whom he expected 
a more favorable reception. If she, too, rejected his addresses, 
he never thought of retiring into deserts, or pining in hopeless 
distress: he persuaded himself — that, instead of lo\dng the lady 
he had only fancied that he had loved her ; — and so all wa"3 
wpII again. 

6. When fortune wore her angriest look, and he at last fell 
into the power of his most deadly enemy, Cardinal Mazarine, 
(being confined a close prisoner in the castle of Valenciennes,*) 

* Pronounced Val-en-scenes', a city in the north of France, situated on the 
river Scheldt. 



166 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. ■ 

hePxever attempted to support his distress by wisdom orphilo 
sopliy ; for he pretended to neither. He only laughed at him 
self and his persecutor; and seemed infinitely pleased at his 
new situation. In this mansion of distress, — though secluded 
from his friends, — though denied all the amusements, and even 
the conveniences of life, he still retained his good humor ; 
laughed at the little spite of his enemies : and carried the jest 
so far — as to be revenged, by writing the life of his jailer. 

7. All that the wisdom of the proud can teach — is to be stub- 
born, or sullen, under misfortunes. The Cardinal's example 
will instruct us to be merry, in circumstances of the highest 
affliction. It matters not whether our good humor be constru- 
ed, by others, into insensibility ; or even idiotism ; it is happi- 
ness to ourselves ; and none but a fool would measure his sat- 
isfaction by what the world thinks of it. 

S-. The happiest silly fellow I ever knew, was of the number 
of those good natured creatures that are said to do no hiivm to 
any but themselves. Whenever he fell into any misery, he 
called it, " seeing life." If his head was broke by a chairman, 
or his pocket picked by a sharper, he comforted himself by im- 
itating the Hibernian dialect of the one, or the mxore fashiona- 
ble cant of the other. Nothing cam.e amiss to him. 

9. His inattention to money matters had incensed his father 
to such a degree, that all intercession of friends in his favor 
was fruitless. The old gentleman was on his death bed. The 
whole family (and Dick among the number) gathered around 
him. 

10. " I leave my second son, Andrew," said the expiring 
miser, " my whole estate ; and desire him to be frugal." — 
Andrevv^ in a sorrowful tone, (as is usual on those occasions) 
prayed Heaven to prolong his life and health to enjoy it 
himself ! 

11. " I recommend Simon, my third son, to the care of his 
elder brother ; and leave him, beside, four thousand pounds." 
" Ah ! father," cried Simon, (in great affliction to be sure) 
" may Heaven give you life and health to enjoy it yourself!" 

12. At last — turning to poor Dick, " as for you, you have 
always been a sad dog ; you'll never come to good : you'll 
never be rich ; I leave you a shilling, to buy a halter." " Ah ! 
father," cries Dick, without any emotion, ^^may Heaven g-ive 
you life and health to enjoy it yourself!" 



:M 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 167 

LESSON LXXXIIL 

The Sleepers. — Miss M. A. Browne. 

L They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping? 

Children, wearied with their play ; 
For the stars of night are peeping, 

And the sun hath sunk away. 
As the dew upon the blossoms 

Bow them on their slender stem, 
So, as light as their own bosoms. 

Balmy sleep hath conquered them. 

2. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 

Mortals, compassed round with wo, 
Eyelids, wearied out witii weeping, 

Close for very weakness now : 
And that short relief from sorrow, 

Harassed nature shall sustain, 
Till they wake again to-morrow. 

Strengthened to contend with pain ! 

3. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 

Captives, in their gloomy cells ; 
Yet sweet dreams are o'er them creeping ; 

With their many-colored spells. 
All they love — again they clasp them; 

Feel again their long-lost joys ; 
But the haste with which they grasp them. 

Every fairy form destroys. 

4. They are sleeping! Who are sleeping? 

Misers, by their hoarded gold ; 
And in fancy now are heaping 

Gems and pearls of price untold. 
Golden chains their limbs encumber,, / 

Diamonds seem before them strown : 
But they waken from their slumber, 

And the splendid dream is flown. 

5. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 

Pause a moment, softly tread ; 
Anxious friends are fondly keeping 

Vigils by the sleeper's bed ! 
Other hopes have all forsaken, — 

One remains, — that slumber deep 
Speak not, lest the slumberer waken 

From that sweet, that saving sleep. 



IC8 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

6. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 

Thousands, who have pass'd away, 
From a world of wo and weeping, 

To the regions of decay ! 
Safe they rest, the green turf under : 

Sighing breeze, or music's breath, 
Winter's wind, or summer's thunder, 

Cannot break the sleep of death ! 



LESSON LXXXIV. - 
' A Good Scholar. — May. 

1. A GOOD scholar is known by his obedience to the rules of 
the school, and to the directions of his teacher. He does not 
give his teacher the trouble of telling him the same thing over 
and over again ; but says or does immediately whatever he is 
desired. His attendance at the proper time of school is always 
punctual. Fearful of being too late, as soon as the hour of 
meeting approaches, he hastens to the school, takes his place 
quietly, and instantly attends to his lesson. He is remarkable 
for his diligence and attention. He reads no other book than 
that which he is desired to read by his master. He studies no 
lessons but those which are appointed for the day. 

2. He takes no toys from his pocket to amuse himself or 
others ; he has no fruit to eat, no sv/eetmeats to give avv^ay. — 
If any of his companions attempt to take ofi his eye or his mind 
from his lesson, he does not give heed to them. If they still 
try to make him idle, he bids them let him alone, and do their 
own duties. And if, after this, they go on to disturb and vex 
him, he informs the teacher, that both, for their sake and for 
his own, he may interfere, and, by a wise reproof, prevent the 
continuance of such improper and hurtful conduct. 

3. When strangers enter the school, he does not stare rudely 
in their faces ; but is as attentive to his lesson as if no one were 
present but the master. If they speak to him, he answers with 
modesty and respect. Yv^hen the scholars in his class are read- 
ing, spelling, or repeating any thing, he is very attentive, and 
studies to learn by listening to them. His great desire is to 
improve, and therefore he is never idle, — not even when he 
might be so, and yet escape detection and punishment. 

4. He minds his business as well when his teacher is out of 
sight, as when he is standing near him, or looking at him. If 
possible, he ismore diligent when his teacher happens for a little 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 169 

o be away from him, that he may show " all g-ooci fidelity" in 
this, as in every thing else. He is desirous of adding to the 
knowledge he has already gained, of learning something useful 
every day. And he is not satisfied if a day passes without 
making him wiser than he was before, in those things which 
will be of real benefit to him. 

5. When he has a difficult lesson to learn, or a hard task to 
perform, he does not fret or murmur at it. He knows that his 
master would not have prescribed it to him, unless he had 
thought that he was able for it, and that it would do him good. 
He therefore sets about it readily ; and he encourages himself 
with such thoughts as these: "My parents will be very glad 
when they hear that I have learned this diflicuit lesson, and 
performed this hard task. My teacher, also, will be pleased 
with me for my diligence. And I myself shall be comfortable 
and happy when the exercise is finished. The sooner and the 
more heartily I apply myself to it, the sooner and the better it 
will be done." 

6. When he reads, his words are pronounced so distinctly, 
that you can easily hear and understand him. His copy book 
is fairly written, and free from blots and scrawls. His letters 
are clear and full, and his strokes broad and fine. His iigures 
are well made, accurately cast up, and neatly put down in their 
regular order ; and his accounts are, in general, free from 
mistakes. 

7. He not only improves himself, but he rejoices in the im- 
provement of others. He loves to hear them commended, and 
to see them rewarded. " If I do well," he says, "I shall be 
commended and rev/arded too ; and if all did well, what a happy 
school would ours be ! We ourselves should be much more 
comfortable ; and our m^aster would have a great deal less 
trouble and distress than he has, on account of the idleness and 
inattention, of which too many of us are guilty." 

8. His books he is careful to preserve from every thing that 
might injure them. Having finished his lesson, he puts them in 
their proper place, and does not leave them to be tossed about, 
and, by that means, torn and dirtied. He never forgets to pray 
for the blessing of God on himself, on his school-fellows, and on 
his teacher ; for he knows that the blessing of God is necessary 
to make his education truly useful to him, both in this life, and 
in that which is to come. 

9. And, finally, it is his constaat endeavor to behave well 
when he is out of school, as well as when he is in it. He remem- 
bers that the eye of God is ever upon him, and that ne must i« 

15 



170 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

last give an account of himself to the great Judge of all. And, 
therefore, he studies to practise, at all times, the religious and 
moral lessons that he receives from his master, or that he reads 
in the Bible, or that he m^eets with in the other books that are 
given him to peruse ; and to " walk in all the commandments 
and ordinances of the Lord, blam.eless." 



LESSON LXXXV. 
Select Sentences. 

1. If the mind is well cultivated, it produces a store of fruit ; 
if neglected, it is overrun with weeds. 

2. The young are slaves to novelty ; — the old to custom. 

3. Ingratitude is more baneful than a pestilential vapor, — 
and more destructive to society than a band of robbers. 

4. There is nothing honorable, that is not innocent ; — and 
nothing mean, but what attaches guilt. 

5. As, among wise men, he is the wisest who thinks he knows 
the least, — so, among fools, he is the greatest who thinks he 
knows the most. 

6. Precipitation ruins the best contrived plan ; — patience 
ripens the most dilTicult. 

7. It was a saying of Socrates, that we should eat and drink 
in order to live ; instead of living as many do, in order to eat 
and drink. 

8. Men make themselves ridiculous, not so much by the 
qualities they have^as by the affectation of those they have not. 

9. The injuries we do, and those we suffer, are seldom weigh- 
ed in the same balance. 

10. Never delay to a future period, that which can be done 
immediately, — nor transfer to another, what you can perform 
yourself. 

11. Be sincere in all your words, — prudent in all your ac- 
tions, — and obliging in all your manners. 

12. Seriousness is the greatest wisdom, — temperance, the 
best medicine, — and a good conscience, the best estate. 

13. It is better to do and not promise, — than to promise and 
not perform. 

14. No station is so high, no power so great, no character so 
unblemished, as to exempt men from the attacks of rashness, 
malice, or enYj. 

15. Contemporaries appreciate the man rather than thd merit : 
but posterity will regard the merit rather than the man. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 171 

16. Mystery magnifies danger, as a fog the sun ; the hand 
that warned the eastern prince,* derived its horrifying inlluence 
from the want of a body. 

17. True friendship is hke sound health, — the value of it is 
seldom known until it be lost. 

18. Young folks tell Avhat they do, — old ones what they have 
done, — and fools what they will do. 

19. From principles is derived probability ; but truth is ob- 
tained only from facts. 

20. The volume of nature is the book of knowledge, and he 
becomes most wise, who makes the most judicious selection. 

21. Title and ancestry render a good man more illustrious ; — 
but an ill one more contemptible. Vice is infamous, though in 
a prince ; — and virtue honorable, though in a peasant. 

22. What you keep by you, you may mend and change ; — 
but words once spoken can never be recalled. 

23. What is the most constant of all things ? — hope ; — be- 
cause it still remains with man, after he has lost every thing 
else. 

24. A just man should account nothing more precious than 
his v/ord, — nothing more venerable than his faith, — and nothing 
more sacred than his promise. 

25. A hypocrite is hated by the world for seeming what he 
is not : but he will be condemned by his Creator for not being 
what he seems. 

26. The greatest friend of truth, is time, — her greatest enemy 
is prejudice, — and her constant companion is humility. 

27. When you have nothing to say, say nothing ; — a weak 
defence strengthens your opponent, and silence is less injurious 
than a bad reply. 

28. When the million applaud you, seriously ask yourself 
what harm you have done : — when they censure you, what 
good ? 

29. Mental pleasures never cloy ; unlike those of the body, 
they are increased by repetition ; approved of by reflection ; 
and strengthened by enjoyment. 

30. Vice stings us, even in our pleasmes, — but virtue con- 
soles us, even in our pains. 

31. Let fame be regarded, but conscience much more. It is 
an empty joy to appear better than you are ; — but a great bless- 
ing to he what you ought to be. 



* See the 5th chapter of Daniel. 



172 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

32. The first ingredient in conversation, is truth ; — the next, 
good sense ; the third, good humour ; the last, wit. 

33. The man of virtue, is an honor to his country, — a credit 
to human nature, — and a henefactor to the world. He is rich 
without oppression, — charitable without ostentation, — courte- 
ous without deceit, — and brave without vice. 

34. The difference there is betwixt honor and honesty, seems 
to be chiefly in the motive. The honest man does that from 
duty, which the rnan of honor does for the sake of character. 

35. Men's evil manners live in brass ; — their virtues we 
write in vrater. 

30. Fine sense, and exalted sense, are not half so valuable 
as common sense. There are forty men of wit for one man of 
sense ; — and he that will carry nothing about him but gold, will 
be every day at a loss for want of ready change. 

37. A wise man Avill desire no more than what he may get 
justly, — use soberly, — distribute cheerfully, — and live upon 
contentedly. 

38. You have obliged a man; — very Avell. What w^ould 
you have more ? Is not the consciousness of doing good a suffi- 
cient reward ? 

39. Agesilaus, king of Sparta,* being asked the means of 
establishing a high reputation, answered, — " Speak well, and 
act better." 

40. Cowards die m^any timies ; the valiant never taste of 
death but once. 

41. If you want your business done, go ; — if not, send. 

42. Cruel men are the greatest lovers of mercy — avaricious 
men of generosity — and proud m.en of humility; — that is to say, 
— in others, — not in themselves. 

43. He that is good, will infallibly become better ; and he 
that is bad, will as certainly become worse ; — for vice, virtue, 
and time, are three things that never stand still. 

44. Socrates being asked what was the best mode of gaining 
a high reputation, replied, " To be what you appear to be." 

45. If the spring put forth no blossoms, — in summer there 
will be no beauty, — and in autumn no fruit. So if youth be 
trifled awayAvithout improvement, — manhood will be contempt- 
ible, — and old age miserable. 

* Sparta, a state of ancient Greece. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 173 

LESSON LXXXVI. 

Select Paragraphs. 

L Be studious, and you will be learned. Be industrious and 
frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you 
will be healthy. Be virtuous, and you will be happy. 

2. Man, if lie compare himself with all that he can see, is at 
the zenith of power ; — but if he compare himself with all that 
ae can conceive, he is at the nadir of weakness. 

3. We esteem most things according to their intrinsic merit ; 
— it is strange man should be an exception. We prize a horse 
for his strength and courage, — not for his furniture. We prize 
a man for his sumptuous palace, — his great train, — his vast 
revenue ; — yet these are his furniture, not his mind., 

4. The kindnesses, which most men receive from others, are 
like traces drawn in the sand. The breath of every passion 
sweeps them away, and they are remembered no more. But 
injuries are like inscriptions on monuments of brass, or pillars 
of marble, which endure, unimpaired, the revolutions of time. 

5. Man, always prosperous, would be giddy and insolent ; — 
always afflicted, would be sullen or despondent. Hopes and 
fears, joy and sorrow, are therefore, so blended in his life, as 
both to give room for worldly pursuits, and to recall from time 
to time the admonitions of conscience. 

6. He, who would pass the latter part of his life with honor 
and decency, must, when he is young, consider that he shall one 
day be old, — and remember when he is old, that he has once 
been young. 

7. The pensionary De Witt,* being asked how he could 
transact such a variety of business without confusion, answered, 
—that he never did but one thing at a time. 

8. He, who governs his passions, does more than he who 
commands armies. Socrates, being one day offended with his 
servant, said, — " I would beat you if 1 were not angry." 

9. No rank in life precludes the efficacy of a well timed com- 
pliment. When Queen Elizabeth! asked an Ambassador how 
he liked her ladies, he replied, — " It is hard to judge of stars in 
presence of the sun." 

* John De Witt, the famous pensionary of Holland, was born at Dort, in 
Holland, 1G25. He was the greatest genius of his time, and the ablest poli- 
tician ; but was barbarously murdered by a mob, in 1672. 

t Elizabeth, queen of England, was born 1533, and commenced her reign 
in 1558. She was a person of accomplished manners, and a well cultivated 
mind. She died in 1603. 

15* 



% 



174 NATIONAL TRECEPTOR. 

10. We too often judge of men by the splendor, and not by 
the merit of their actions. Alexander demanded of a pirate 
whom he had taken, by what right he infested the seas ? — 
" By the same right," replied he, boldly, " that you enslave the 
world. I am called a robber, because I have only one small 
vessel; — but you are styled a conqueror, because you command 
great fleets and armies." 

11. Francis I.* consulting with his Generals hoAV to lead his 
army over the Alps into Italy, — Amarel, his fool, sprung from 
a corner, and advised him to consult rather, — how to bring i1 
back. 

12. Men are too often ingenious in making themselves miser- 
able, by aggravating, beyond bounds, the evils which they are 
compelled to endure. " I will restore thy daughter again to 
life," said an eastern sage to a prince who grieved immoderate- 
iy for the loss of a beloved child, — " provided thou art able to 
engrave on her tomb, the names of three persons who have 
never mourned." The prince made inquiry after such persons ; 
— but found the inquiry vain, — and was silent. 

13. When Dariusf offered Alexander ten thousand talents 
to divide Asia equally with him, he answered, — " the earth 
cannot bear two suns, — nor Asia two kings." Parmenio, a 
friend of Alexander's, hearing the great offer Darius had made, 
said, — " were I Alexander, I would accept it," — " so v/ould I," 
repKed Alexander, " were I Parmenio." 

14. When Agesilaus, king of Sparta, heard any one praised, 
or censured, he remarked, " that it was as necessary to know 
the characters of the speakers, as the characters of those who 
were the subjects of their opinions." 

15. Alcibiadest was one day boasting of his wealth and im- 
mense estates in the presence of Socrates. This wise Athenian, 
in order to repress his ostentatious spirit, led him to a miap, and 
desired him to point out Attica. After searching for some time, 
Alcibiades, with some difficulty, discerned it ; — Socrates then 
requested him to look for his own estate ; — the young man 
replied, that he should not be able to find it, in so small a space. 

* Francis I., king of France in A. D. 1515. He is known as the opponent 
and rival of Charles V., emperor of Germany, — also, as the patron of the 
arts and sciences. He died 1547. 

t Da-ri'-us III., the last king of the ancient Persian Empire. He was 
conquered by Alexander the Great, and at last treacherously assassinated 
by Bessus, his own general, B. C. 331. 

t Pronounced Al-se-bi'-a-dees, an illustrious Athenian General, and a 
disciple of Socrates. He died B. C. 404, aged 46. 



jNATIONAL preceptor. 175 

"Why, then," replied Socratps, "are you so inflated with pride, 
concerning a mere point of land .<"' 

16. No hero makes so distinguished a figure in ancient his- 
tory as Alexander the Great.* His courage was undaunted, — 
his ambition boundless, — his friendship ardent, — his taste re- 
fined ; — and, what is very extraordinary, he appears to have 
conversed with the same fire and spirit with which he fi)ught. 
Philip, his father, knowing him to be very swift, wished him to 
run for the prize at the Olympic Games. " I would comply 
with your request," said Alexander, "if kings were to be my 
competitors." 

17. L'Estrange,t in his Fables, tells us that a number of boys 
were one day watching frogs at the side of a pond ; — and that, 
as any of them put their heads above water, they pelted them 
down again with stones. One of the frogs, appealing to the 
humanity of the boys, made this striking observation; — " Chil- 
dren, you do not consider, that though this m.ay be sport to you, 
it is death to us." 

18. One day, when the moon was under an eclipse, she 
complained thus to the sun of the discontinuance of his favors : 
" My dearest friend," said she, " why do you not shine upon 
me as you used to do ?" "Do I not shine upon thee ?" said the 
sun ; — " I am very sure I intend it." " Oh no !" replies the 
moon, " but I now perceive the reason. I see that dirty planet, 
the earth, has got between us." 

19. To a man of an exalted mind, the forgiveness of injuries 
is productive of more pleasure and satisfaction, than obtaining 
vengeance. The emperor Adrian,^: one day, seeing a person 
who had injured him in his former station, thus addressed him : 
— " You are safe ; — I am Emperor." 

20. Cyrus, II when a boy, being at the court of his grandfather, 
Astyages,^ engaged to perform the ofiice of cup-bearer at table. 
The duty of this officer, required him to taste the liquor before 



* A king of Maccdon. 

t Pronouneed Le-Stran<Te, an English gentleman, born 161G, and died 
1705. 

t Adrian, a Roinan emperor, in A. D. 117. He was distinguished for 
his personal accomplishments and mental acquirements. He reigned pros- 
perously 22 years, and died in the 63d year of his age. 

li Cyrus the Great, king of Persia. He dethroned his grandfather, As- 
fyages, established the Persian empire, took Babylon, liberated the Jews, — 
and was at last killed in the battle against Tomyris, queen of the Massa- 
getse, B. C. 530. 

§ Pronounced As-ti'-a-gees, a king of Media, 594 B. C. 



176 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

presenting it to the king. Cyrus, without performing this cere- 
mony, delivered the cup in a very graceful manner to his grand- 
father. The king observed the omission, which he imputed to 
forgetfulness. No ! replied Cyrus, I purposely avoided tasting 
it, — because I feared lest it should contain poison ; — for lately, 
at an entertainment, I observed that the lords of your court, 
after drinking it, became noisy, quarrelsome, and frantic. 

21. A certain passenger at sea, had the curiosity to ask the 
pilot of the vessel, what death his father died of. What death ! 
said the pilot ; — why, he perished at sea, as my grandfather did 
before him. And are you not afraid of trusting yourself to an 
element that has proved thus fatal to your family ? Afraid ! by 
no means. Is not your father dead ? Yes, — but he died in his 
bed. And why then, returned the pilot, are you not afraid of 
trusting yourself in your bed? 

22. Honor is unstable, and seldom the same ; — for she feeds 
upon opinion, and is as fickle as her food. But virtue is uniform 
and fixed, because, she looks for approbation only from him, 
who is the same yesterday — to-day — and for ever. Honor feeds 
us with air, and often pulls down our house to build our monu- 
ment. She is. contracted in her views ; and is buffeted by the 
Avaves, and borne along by the whirlwind. But virtue is en- 
larged, and infinite in her hopes, — and has an anchor sure and 
stedfast, because it is cast in heaven. The noble Brutus* wor- 
shipped honor, and in his zeal mistook her for virtue. In the 
day of trial he found her, but — a shadow — and a name. 

23. When thou doest good, do it because it is good ; — not 
because men esteem it so. When thou avoidest evil, flee from 
it because it is evil ; — not because m^en speak against it. Be 
honest for the love of honesty, and thou shalt be uniformly so. 
He that doeth it without principle is v/avering. 

24. A wise man endeavors to shine in himself; — a fool to 
outshine others, The former is humbled by the sense of his 
own infirmities ; — the latter is lifted up by the discovery of those 
which he observes in others. The wise man considers what he 
wants ; — and the fool, what he abounds in. The wise man is 
happy when he gains his own approbation ; — and the fool, 
when he recommends himself to the applause of those about 
him. 

25. It is pleasant to be virtuous and good, because that Is to 
excel many others ; — it is pleasant to grow better, because that 
r 

* Marcus Bnitus, a Roman General, engaged in the conspiracy against 
Julius Cesar. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. IT? 

IS to excel ourselves ; — it is pleasant to mortify and subdue our 
lusts, because that is victory ; — it is pleasant to command our 
appetites and passions, and to keep them in due order, within 
the bounds of reason and religion, — because — that is empire. 

26. Homer* was the greater genius ; — Virgilf the better 
artist. In the one, we most admire the man ; — in the other, 
the work. Homer hurries us Avith a commanding impetuosity 
— Virgil leads us with an attractive majesty. Homer scatters 
with a generous profusion ; — ^Virgil bestows with a careful 
magnificence. Homer, like the Nile,| pours out his riches with 
a sudden overflow ; — Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a 
constant stream. And when we look upon their machines, 
Homer seems, like his own Jupiter|| in his terrors, shaking 
Olympus,^ — scattering the lightnings, — and firing the heavens ; 
— Virgil, like the same power in his benevolence, counselling 
with the gods, — laying plans fur empires, — and ordering his 
whole creation. 



LESSON LXXXVII. 

Happiness is founded in rectitude of conduct. — Harris. 

1. All men pursue good, and would be happy, if they knew 
how ; not happy for minutes, and miserable for hours ; but 
happy, if possible, through every part of their existence. — 
Either, therefore, there is a good of this steady, durable kind, 
or there is not. If not, then all good must be transient and 
uncertain ; and if so, an object of tlie lowest value, which can 
little deserve our attention or inquiry. 

2. But if there be a better good, such a good as we are seek- 
ing, like every other thing, it must be derived from some 
cause ; and that cause must either be external, internal, or 
mixed ; in as much as, except these three, there is no other 
possible. Now, a steady, durable good, cannot be derived 
from an external cause ; since all derived from externals must 
fluctuate as they fluctuate. 

3. By the same rule, it cannot be derived from a mixture of 
the two ; because the part which is external, will proportiona- 
bly destroy its essence. What then remains but the cause in- 
ternal? the very cause which we have supposed, when we place 
the sovereign good in mind, — in rectitude of conduct. 

* A Grecian poet. t A Latin poet. 

t Nile, the great river of Egypt, which annually overflows its banks. 

U Jupiter, the supreme deity among the Greeks and Romans. 

§ Olympus, a mountain in Greece. 



178 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON LXXXVIIl. 

Virtue and Piety Mart's highest Interest. — Harris. 

1. I FIND myself existing upon a little spot, surrounded every 
way by an immense, unknown expansion. — Where am I? 
What sort of a place do I inhabit ? Is it exactly accommo- 
dated in every instance to my convenience ? Is there no ex- 
cess of cold, none of heat, to offend me ? Am I never annoyed 
by animals either of my own, or a different kind ? Is every 
thing subservient to me, as though I had ordered all myself? 
No — nothing like it — the farthest from it possible. 

2. The world appears not, then, originally made for the pri- 
vate convenience of me alone ? — It does not. But is it not pos- 
sible so to accommodate it, by my own particular industry? 
If to accommodate man and beast, heaven and earth, if this be 
beyond me, it is not possible. What consequence then follows? 
or can there be any other than this ! If I seek an interest of 
my own detached from that of others, I seek an interest which 
is chimerical, and which can never have existence. 

3. How then must I determine ? Have I no interest at all ? 
If I have not, I am stationed here to no purpose. But why no 
interest ? Can I be contented with none but one separate and 
detached? Is a social interest, joined with others, such an 
absurdity as not to be admitted ? The bee, the beaver, and the 
tribes of herding animals, are sufficient to convince me, that 
the thing is somewhere at least possible. 

4. How, then, am I assured that it is not equally true of man? 
Admit it ; and what follows ? If so, then honor and justice 
are my interest ; then the whole train of moral virtues are miy 
interest ; without some portion of which, not even thieves can 
maintain society. 

5. But, farther still — I. stop not here — I pursue this social 
interest as far as I can trace my several relations. I pass from 
my own stock, my own neighborhood, my own nation, to the 
whole race of mankind, as dispersed throughout the earth. Am 
I not related to them all, by the mutual aids of commerce, by 
the general intercourse of arts and letters, by that common 
nature of which we all participate ? 

6. Again — I must have food and clothing. Without a pro 
per genial <'i'armth, I instantly perish. Am I not related 
in this view, to the very earth itself ; to the distant sun, from 
whose beams I derive vigor ? To that stupendous course and 
order of the infinite host of heaven, by which the times and 
seasons ever uniformlv pass on ? 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 179 

1, Were this order once confounded, I could not probably 
survive a moment ; so absolutely do I depend on this common 
general welfare. What, then, have I to do, but to enlarge 
virtue into piety ? Not only honor and justice, and what I owe 
to man, is my interest ; but gratitude also, acquiescence, resig- 
nation, adoration, and all I owe to this great polity, and its 
great Governor, our common Parent. 



LESSON LXXXIX. 
importance of Virtue. — Price. 

1. Virtue is of intrinsic value, and good desert, aad ot 
indispensable obligation ; not the creature of will, bat necessary 
and immutable ; not local or temporary, but of equal extent 
Snd antiquity with the Divine mind : not a mode of sensation, 
but everlasting truth ; not dependent on power, but the guide 
of all power. 

2. Virtue is the foundation of honor and esteem, and the 
source of all beauty, order, and happiness, in nature. It is what 
confers value on all the other endovvments and qualities of a 
reasonable being, to which they ought to be absolutely subser- 
vient ; and v/ithout which, the more eminent they are, the more 

-hideous deformities, and the greater curses, they become. 

3. The use of it is not confined to any one stage of our exist- 
ence, or to any particular situation we can be in, but reaches 
through all the periods and circumstances of our being. Many 
of the endowments and talents we now possess, and of which 
we are too apt to be proud, will cease entirely with the present 
state ; but this will be our ornament and dignity, in every futui'e 
state, to which we may be removed. 

4. Beauty and wit will die, learning will vanish away, and 
all the arts of life be soon forgot ; but virtue will remain forever. 
This unites us to the whole rational creation ; and fits us for 
conversing with any order of superior natures, and for a place 
in any part of God's works. It procures us the approbation 
and love of all wise and good beings, and renders them our 
allies and friends. 

5. But what is of unspeakably greater consequence, is, that 
it makes God our friend, assimilates and unites our minds to 
his, and engages his Almighty power in our defence. Superior 
beings of all ranks are bound by it, no less than ourselves.-— 
It has tlie same authority in all worlds that it has in this. 



180 NATIONAL PRECEPTOK. 

6. The further any being is advanced in excellence and per 
fection, the greater is his attachment to it, and the more he is 
under its influence. To say no more, it is the law of the whole 
universe, it stands first in the estimation of the Deity; its 
original is his nature, and it is the very object that makes him 
lovely. 

7. Such is the importance of virtue. — Of what consequence, 
therefore, is it that we practise it ? There is no argument or 
motive, in any respect fitted to influence a reasonable mind, 
which does not call us to this. One virtuous disposition of soul 
is preferable to the greatest natural accomplishments and abili- 
ties, and of more value than all the treasures of the world. 

8. If you are wise, then study virtue, and contemn every 
thing that can come in competition with it. Remember that 
nothing else deserves one anxious thought or wish. Remember 
that this alone is honor, glory, wealth, and happiness. Secure 
this, and you secure every thing. Lose this, and all is lost. 



LESSON XC. 
The Folly of Inconsistent Expectations. — Aikin. 

1. This world may be considered as a great mart of com-' 
merce, where fortune exposes to our view various commodities; 
riches, ease, tranquillity, fame, integrity, knowledge. Every 
thing is marked at a settled price. Our time, our labor, our 
ingenuity, is so much ready money, which we are to lay out to 
the best advantage. 

2. Examine, compare, choose, reject ; but stand to your own 
judgment ; and do not, like children, when you have purchased 
one thing, repine that you do not possess another, which you 
did not purchase. Such is the force of well regulated industry, 
that a steady and vigorous exertion of our faculties, directed to 
one end, will generally insure success. 

3. Would you, for instance, be rich ? Do you think that sin- 
gle point worth the sacrifice of every thing else? You may then 
be rich. Thousands have become so from the lowest begin- 
nings, by toil, and patient diligence, and attention to the mi- 
nutest articles of expense and profit. But you must give up 
the pleasures of leisure, of a vacant mind, of a free unsuspi- 
cious temper. 

4. If you preserve your integrity, it must be a coarse-spun 
and vulgar honesty. Those high and lofty notions of morals, 
v/hich you brought with you from the schools, must be consider- 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 181 

ably lowered, and mixed with the baser alloy of a jealous and 
worldly minded prudence. 

5. You must learn to do hard, if not unjust things ; and as for 
the nice embarrassments of a delicate and ingenuous spirit, it is 
necessary for you to get rid of them as fast as possible. You 
must shut your heart against the Muses, and be content to feed 
your understanding with plain household truths. 

6. In short, you must not attempt to enlarge your ideas, or 
polish your taste, or refine your sentiments ; but must keep on 
in one beaten track, without turning aside, either to the right 
hand or to the left.- — " But I cannot submit to drudgery like 
this — I feel a spirit above it." It is well ; be above it then ; 
only do not repine that you are not rich. 

7. Is knowledge the pearl of price ? That, too, may be pur- 
chased — by steady application, and long solitary hours of study 
and reflection. — Bestow these, and you shall be learned. "But," 
says the man of letters, " what a hardship it is, that many an 
illiterate fellow, who cannot construe the motto of the arms on 
his coach, shall raise a fortune and make a figure, while I have 
little more than the common conveniencies of life !" 

8. Was it in order to raise a fortune, that you consumed the 
sprightly hours of youth in study and retirement ? Was it to be 
rich, that you grew pale over the midnight lamp, and distilled 
the sweetness from the Greek and Roman spring ? You have 
then mistaken your path, and ill employed your industry. 

9. " What reward have I then for all miy labors ?" What 
rev/ard ! a large, comprehensive soul, well purged from vulgar 
fears, and perturbations, and prejucUces ; able to comprehend 
and interpret the works of man — of God. A rich, flourishing, 
cultivated mind, pregnant with inexhaustible stores of entertain- 
ment and reflection. A perpetual spring of fresh ideas, and the 
conscious dignity of superior intelligence. Good Heaven ! and 
what reward can you ask besides ? 

10. " But is it not some reproach upon the Economy of Prov- 
idence, that such a one, who is a mean, dirty fellow, should have 
amassed wealth enough to buy half a nation !" Not in the least. 
He made himself a mean dirty fellow for that very end. He 
has paid his health, his conscience, his liberty, for it ; and will 
you envy his bargain ? Will you hang your head and blush in 
his presence, because he outshines you in equipage and show? 

11. Lift up your brow, with a noble confidence, and say to 
yourself, " I have not these things, it is true ; but it is because 1 
have not sought, because I have not desired them ; it is because 

18 



182 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

I possess something better ; I have chosen my lot ; I am con- 
tent and satisfied." 

12. You are a modest man — you love quiet and independ- 
ence, and have a delicacy and reserve in your temper, which 
renders it impossible for you to elbow your way in the world, 
and be the herald of your own merits. Be content, then, with 
a modest retirement, with the esteem of your intimate friends, 
with the praises of a blameless heart, and a deli3ate, ingenuous 
spirit ; but resign the splendid distinctions of the world to these 
who can better scramble for them. 

13. The man whose tend&r sensibility of conscience and 
strict regard to the rules of morality, makes him scrupulous and 
fearful of offending, is often heard to complain of the disadvan- 
tages under which he lies, in every path of honor and profit. — 
" Could I but get over some nice points, and conform to the 
practice and opinion of those about me, I miglit stand as fair a 
chance as others for dignities and preferment." 

14. And why can you not ? What hinders you from discard- 
ing this troublesome scrupulosity of yours which stands so griev- 
ously in your way ? If it be a small thing to enjoy a healthful 
mind, sound at the very core, that does not shrink from the 
keenest inspection ; inward freedom from remorse and pertur- 
bation ; unsullied whiteness and simplicity of manners ; if you 
think these advantages an inadequate recompense for what you 
resign, dismiss your scruples this instant, and be a slave mer- 
chant, a director — or what you please. 



LESSON XCI. 
On the Beauties of the Psalms. — Horne. 

1. Greatness confers no exemption from the cares and sor- 
rows of life : its share of them frequently bears a melancholy 
proportion to its exaltation. This the monarch* of Israel 
experienced. He sought in piety, that peace which he could 
not find in empire : and alleviated the disquietudes of state, 
with the exercises of devotion. His invaluable Psalms convey 
those comforts to others, which they afforded to himself. 

2. Composed upon particular occasions, yet designed for 
general use ; delivered out as services for Israelites under the 
Law, yet no less adapted to the circumstances of Christians 
under the Gospel; they present rehgion to us in the most 
engaging dress ; communicating truths which philosophy could 

* Kiag David. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 183 

never investigate, in a style which poetry can never equal, 
while history is made the vehicle of prophecy, and creation 
lends all its charms to paint the glories of redemption. 

3. Calculated alike to profit and to please, they inform the 
understanding, eler^tte the affections, and entertain the imagi- 
nation. Indited und?r the influence of him, to whom all hearts 
are known, and all events foreknown, they suit mankind in ail 
situations ; grateful as the manna which descended from above, 
and conformed itself to every palate. 

4. The fairest productions of human wit, after a few perusals, 
like gathered flowers, wither in our hands, and lose their fra- 
grancy : but these unfading plants of Paradise become, as we 
are accustomed to them, still more and more beautiful ; their 

abloom appears to be daily heightened ; fresh odors are emitted, 
and new sweets extracted from them. He who has once tasted 
their excellencies, v/ill desire to taste them again ; and he who 
tastes them oftenest, will relish them best. 

5. And now, could the author flatter himself, that any one 
would take half the pleasure in reading his work, which he has 
taken in writing it, he would not fear the loss of his labor. 
The employment detached him from the bustle and hurry oi 
life, the din of politics, and the noise of folly. Vanity and 
vexation flew aAvay for a season : care and disquietude came 
not near his dwelling. — He arose, fresh as the mornino^ to Ids 
task ; the silence of the night invited him to pursue it; and he 
can truly say, that food and rest were not preferred before it. 

6. Every psalm improved infinitely upon his acquaintance 
with it, and no one gave him uneasiness but the last : for then 
he grieved that his work was done. Happier hours than those 
which have been spent in these meditations on the songs oi 
Sion, he never expects to see in this world. Very pleasantly 
did they pass ; they moved smoothly and swiftly along : for 
when thus engaged, he counted no time. They are gone, but 
they have left a relish and a fragrance upon the mind ; and the 
remembrance of them is sweet. 



LESSON XCIL 

Two Voices from the Grave, — Karamsin. 

First Voice. 

1. How frightful the grave ! how deserted and drear ! 
With the howls of the storm- wind, — the creaks of the bier, 
And the white bones all clattering together ! 



184 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Second Voice* 

2. How peaceful the grave ! its quiet how deep ! 
Its zephyrs breathe calmly, and soft i.? its sleep, 

And flowrets perfume it with ether. 

First Voice* 

3. There riots the blood-crested worm on the dead, 
And the yellow skull serves the foul toad for a bed, 

And snakes in its nettle weeds hiss. 

Second Voice. 

4. How lovely, how sweet the repose of the tomb ! 
No tempests are there ; — but the nightingales come. 

And sing their sweet chorus of bliss. 

First Voice. 

5. The ravens of night flap their wings o'er the grave ; 
'Tis the vulture's abode ; — 'tis the wolfs dreary cave, 

Where they tear up the dead v»^ith their fangs. 

Second Voice. 

6. There the cony,* at evening, disports with his love, 
Or rests on the sod ; while the turtles! above, 

Repose on the bough that o'erhangs. 

First Voice, 

7. There darkness and dampness, with poisonous breath. 
And loathsome decay, fill the dwelling of death ; 

The trees are all barren and bare. 

Second Voice, 

8. O ! soft are the breezes that play round the tomb, 
And sweet with the violet's wafted perfume, 

With lilies and jessamine fair. 

First Voice. 

9. The pilgrim who reaches this valley of tears. 
Would fain hurry by ; and with trembling and fears. 

He is launched on the wreck-covered river. 

Second Voice^ 

10. Here the traveller, worn with life's pilgrimage dreary. 
Lays down his rude staff, like one that is weary, 

And sweetly reposes for ever. 
"^ * Cony, a rabbit. i Turtles, turtle-doves. 



National preceptor. i85 

lesson xcih. 

The Battle of Linden* — Campbell. 

L On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow. 
And dark as winter, was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

% But Linden saw another sight. 

When the drum beat, at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 
The darkness of her scenery. 

3. By torch and trumpet fast array'd. 
Each horseman drew his battle blade, 
And furious every charger neigh'd, 

To join the dreadful revelry. 

4. Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n, 
Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n, 
And louder than the bolts of heaven. 

Far flash'd the red artillery. 

5. And redder yet those fires shall glow, 
On Linden's hills of blood-stain'd snow, 
And darker yet shall be the flow 

Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

6. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun> 
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, 

Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 

7. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
Wave Munich,! all thy banners wave ! 

And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

8. Few, few shall part where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet, 

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 

* Hohenlinden, a town in Austria, famous for the defeat of the Aostii» 
ans, December 3d, 1800, by the French under Moreau. 

t Fronounced Mu'-nick, a city 20 miles west of Hohenlindea. 

16* 



I 



186 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON XCIV. 

The Indian Chief. — Anonymous. 

The following poem is founded on a traditiohaty stoty which is common in 

the neighborhood of the Falls of Niagara. 

1. The rain fell in torrents, the thunder roll'd deep, 
And silenc'd the cataract's roar ', 
But neither the night nor the tempest could keep 
The warrior chieftain on shore. 

3. The war sliout has sounded, the stream must be cross'd ; 
Why lingers the leader afar ! 
*Twere better his life than his glory be lost ; 
He never came late to the v/ar. 

3. He seiz'd a canoe as he sprang from the rock, 

But fast as the shore fled his reach. 
The mountain wave seem'd all his efforts to mock. 
And dash'd the canoe on the beach. 

4. " Great Spirit," he cried, " shall the battle be given, 

And all but their leader be there? 
May this struggle land me with them or in heaven !' 
And he push'd v/ith the strength of despair. 

5. He has quitted the shore, he has gained the deep, 

His guide is the lightning alone ; 
But he felt not with fast, irresistible sAveep, 
Th€ rapids were bearing him down. 

6. But the cataract's roar with the thunder now vied ; 

" O what is the meaning of this !" 
He spoke, and just turn'd to the cataract's side, 
As the lightning flash'd down the abyss. 

7. All the might of his arm to one effort was given, 

At self preservation's command ; 
But the treacherous oar with the effort was riven, 
And the fragment rem-ain'd in his hand. 

8. "Be it so," cry'd the warrior, taking his seat. 

And folding his bow to his breast ; 
** Let the cataract shroud my pale corse with its sheet. 
And its roar lull my spirit to rest. 

d. " The prospect of death with the brave I have borne, 
I shrink not to bear it alone ; 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 18t 

I have often fac'd death when the hope was forlorn, 
But I shrink not to face him with none." 

10. The thunder was hush'f^, and the battle field staiii'd, 
When the sun met the war-wearied eye, 
But no trace of the boat, or the chieftain remain' d — • 
Thouojh his bow was still seen in the sky. 



LESSON XCV. 
The Burial of Sir John 3/oore.*— Rev. C. Wolfe. 

1. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 

As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave vi^here our Hero was buried. 

2. We buried him darkly ; at dead of night, 

The sods with our bayonets turning ; 
By the struggling moon-beams' misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

3. No useless coffin enclosed his breast. 

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 
But he lay — like a warrior taking his rest — 
With his martial cloak around him ! 

4. Few and short were the prayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow — 

5. We thought— as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow — 
How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head* 
And we far away on the billow ! 

6. " Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
But nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid hinri." 

7. But half of our heavy task was done, 

When .the clock tolled the hour for retiring, 

* A galJarit British General, killed by the French in battle, at Corunna, 
in Spain, Jan. IGth, 1809. 



18S NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

And we heard the distant and random gun, 
That the foe was suddenly firmg — 

8. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory 
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
But we left him — alone with his glory ! 



LESSON XCVL 

Boadicea* — Cowper. 

L When the British warrior queen, 
Bleeding from the Roman rods, 
Sought, with an indignant mien, 
Counsel of her country's gods, 

2. Sage beneath the spreading oak 

Sat the Druid, t hoary chief; 
Ev'ry burning word he spoke 
Full of rage, and full of grief. 

3. "Princess ! if our aged eyes i 

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 
'Tis because resentment ties 
All the terrors of our tongues. 

4. " Rome shall perish— write that word 

In the blood that she has spilt ; 
Perish, hopeless aiA abhorr'd, 
Deep in ruin as in guilt. 

5. " Rome, for empire far renown'd, 

Tramples on a thousand states ; 
Soon her pride shall kiss the ground- 
Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates ! 

6. " Other Romans shall arise, 

Heedless of a soldier's name ; 
Sounds, not arms, shall win the prizCi 
Harmony the path to fame. 

7. " Then the progeny that springs 

From the forests of our land, 

♦ Boadicea was queen of the Iceni, in Britain. She was defeated »n3 
conquered by the Romans, A. D. 59* 
t A Priest of the ancient Britons. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 189 

Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings. 
Shall a wider world command. 

8. " Regions Cesar* never knew 
Thy posterity shall sway ; 
Where his eagles never flew, 
None invincible as they." 

0. Such the bard's prophetic words, 
Pregnant with celestial fire ; 
Bending as he swept the chords 
Of his sweet but awful lyre. 

10. She, with all a monarch's pride, 

Felt them in her bosom glow : 
Rosh'd to battle, fought and died ; 
Dying, hurl'd them at the foe. 

11. "Ruffians, pitiless as proud, 

Heav'n av/ards the vengeance due : 
Empire is on us bestow'd. 

Shame and ruin wait for you." 



LESSON XCVIL 
Tlie Common Lot. — Montgomery. 

1. Once in a flight of ages past. 

There lived a man : — and who was he ^ 
. — MorM ! howe'er thy lot be cast, 
That man resembled Tkee. 

2. Unknown the region of his birth ; 
The land in which he died unknown ; 
His narne hath perish'd from the earth ; 
This truth survives alone : — 

3. That joy and grief, and hope and fear, 
Alternate triumph'd in his breast ; 
His bliss and v/o, — a smile, a tear ! 
— Oblivion hides the rest. 

4. The bounding pulse, the languid limib. 
The changing spirits' rise and fall ; 

* Julius Cesar, a Roman General. He was the first Roman that invaded 
Britain, which he tv/ice reduced to apparent subjection. He was aisassi" 
nated by conspirators, B. C. 43. 



190 NATIOISAL PRECEPTOR. 

We know that these were felt by him. 
For these are felt by all. 

5. He suffer' d — but his pangs are o'er ; 
Enjoy'd — but his delights are fled ; 

Had friends — his friends are now no more 
And foes — his foes are dead. 

6. He lov'd — but whom he lov'd, the grave 
Hath lost in its unconscious womb : 

O she was fair! — but nought could save 
Her beauty from the tomb. 

7. The rolling seasons, day and night, 

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, 
Erewhile his portion, life and light, 
To him exist in vain. 

8. He saw whatever thou hast seen ; 
Encounter'd all that troubles thee; 
He was — whatever thou hast been ; 
He is what thou shalt he. 

9. The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye 
That once their shades and glory threw, 
Have left, in yonder silent sky, 

No vestige where they flew. 

10. The annals of the human race, 
Their ruins, since the world began. 
Of HIM aflbrd no other trace « 

Than this — there lived a man ' 



LESSON XCVHI. 
On the Irresolution of Youth. — Goldsmith. 

1. The most usual way among young men, who have no 
resolution of their own, is, first to ask one friend's advice, and 
follow it for some time ; then to ask advice of another, and turn 
to that ; so of a third ; still unsteady, always changing. How- 
ever, every change of this nature is for the worse. 

2. People may tell you of your being unfit for some peculiar 
occupations in life ; but heed them not ; whatever employment 
you follow with 'perseverance and assiduity^ will be found fit 
for you ; it will be your support in youth, and comfort in age. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 191 

3. In learning- the useful part of every profession, very mod- 
erate abilities will suffice : great abilities are generally obnox- 
ious to the possessor. Life has been compared to a race ; 
but the allusion still improves, by observing, that the most 
swift are ever the most apt to stray from the course. 

4. To know one profession only, is enough fcr oiie man to 
know ; and this, whatever the professors may tell you to the 
contrary, is soon learned. Be contented, therefore, with one 
good employment; for if you understand two at a time, people 
will give you no business in either. 

5. A conjurer and a tailor oncehapened to converse togeth- 
er. " Alas !" cries the tailor, " what an unhappy poor creature 
ami! If people ever take into their heads to live without clothes, 
I am undone ; I have no other trade to have recourse to." — 
" Indeed, friend, I pity you sincerely," replies the conjurer ; 
" but, thank Heaven, things are not quite so bad with me ; 
for, if one trick should fail, I have a hundred tricks more for 
them yet. However, if at any time you are reduced to beg- 
gary, apply to me, and I will relieve you." 

6. A famine overspread the land ; the tailor made a shift to 
live, because his customers could not be w ithout clothes ; but 
the poor conjurer, with all his hundred tricks, could find none 
that had money to throw away ; it was in vain that he promised 
to eat fire, or to vomit pins ; no single creature would relieve 
him, till he was at last obliged to beg from the very tailor whose 
calling he had formerly despised. 

7. There are no obstructions more fatal to fortune than pride 
and resentment. If you must resent injuries at all, at least sup- 
press your indignation till you become rich, and then show 
away. The resentment of a poor man is like the efforts of a 
harmless insect to sting; it may get him crushed, but cannot 
defend him. Who values that anger which is consumed only 
in empty menaces ? 

8. Once upon a time, a goose fed its younor by a pond side ; 
and a goose, in such circumstances, is always extremely proud, 
and excessively punctilious. If any other animal, without the 
least design to offend, happened to pass that way, the goose 
was immediately at it. "The pond," she said, " was her's, and 
she would maintain her right in it, and support her honor, while 
she had a bill to hiss, or a wing to flutter." 

9. In this manner she drove away ducks, pigs, and chickens; 
nay, even the insidious cat was seen to scream. A lounging 
mastiff, however, happened to pass by, and thought it no harm 



193 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

if he should lap a little of the water, as he was thirsty. The 
guardian goose flew at him like a fury, pecked at him with her 
beak, and flapped him with her wings. 

10. The dog grew angry, and had twenty times a mind to 

five her a sly snap, but sr.ppressing his indignation, because 
is master was nigh, "A pox take thee," cried he, "for a fool; 
sure those who have neither strength nor weapons to fight, at 
least, should be civil." So saying, he went forward to the 
pond, quenched his thirst in spite of the goose, and followed 
his master. 

11. Another obstruction to the fortune of youth is, that while 
they are willing to take offence from none, they are also equally 
desirous of giving nobody offence. From hence they endeavor 
to please all, comply with every request, and attempt to suit 
themselves to every company; have no will of their own; but, 
like wax, catch every contiguous impression. By thus attempt- 
ing to give universal satisfaction, they at last find themselves 
miserably disappointed. To bring the generality of admirers 
on our side, it is sufficient to attempt pleasing a very few. 

12. A painter of eminence was once resolved to finish a 
piece which should please the whole world. When, therefore, 
he had drawn a picture in which his utmost skill was exhausted. 
It was exposed in the public market place, with directions at 
the bottom for every spectator to mark, with a brush txhat lay 
by, every limb and feature that seemed erroneous. 

13. The spectators came, and in general applauded; but 
each, willing to show his talent at criticism, stigmatized what- 
ever he thought proper. At evening, when the painter came, 
he was mortified to find the picture one universal blot; not a 
single stroke that had not the marks of disapprobation. 

14. Not satisfied with this trial, the next day he was resolved 
to try them in a different manner; and exposing his picture as 
before, desired that every spectator would mark those beauties 
he approved or admired. 

15. The people complied; and the artist returning, found 
his picture covered with the marks of beauty; every stroke 
that had yesterday been condemned, now received the charac- 
ter of approbation. " Well," cries the painter, " I now find, 
that the best Avay to please all the world, is to attempt pleasing 
one half of it." 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 193 

LESSON XCIX. 

The Hero and the Sage. — Mavor. 

1. A WARRIOR,* who had been the successful comman'.ler of 
armies, on boasting of the thousands he had slain in the field, 
or cut off by stratagem, roused the indignant but humane feel- 
ings of a Sage, who unawed by military prowess, thus rebuked 
the insolence of his triumph : "You seem to exult, Sir, in the 
destruction of your kind, and to recapitulate Avith satisfaction 
the numbers you have deprived of life, or rendered miserable. 
As a man, I blush for you ; as a philosopher, I pity you ; as a 
christian, I despise you." 

2. The hero reddened with Avrath ; he frowned with con- 
tempt ; but he did not yet open his lips. "I am patriot enough," 
continued the Sage, " to wish well to the arms of my country. 
I honor her valiant sons who support her glory and independ- 
ence, and who risk their lives in her defence ; but however 
meritorious this may be, in a just cause, the truly brave will 
lament the cruel necessity they are under of sacrificing their 
fellow-men ; and the generous will rather commiserate than 
triumph. 

3. " I never read of a battle, of the destruction of thousands 
and tens of thousands, but I involuntarily enter into calculations 
on the extent of misery which then ensues. The victims of the 
sword are, perhaps, least the objects of pity ; they have fallen 
by an instant death, and are removed from the consciousness 
of the woes they have left behind. I extend my views to their 
surviving relatives and friends. I bewail the lacerated ties of 
nature. I sympathize with the widow and the orphan. My 
heart bleeds for parental agonies. I depict the warm vows of 
a genuine affection for ever lost ; the silent throb of exquisite 
anguish; the tear which perhaps is forbidden to flow; and, 
from such a contemplation, I turn away with a sensibility that 
represses exultation for victory, however brilliant, and for suc- 
cess, however com.plete." 

4. The warrior clapped his hand on his sword ; he looked 
with indignation, but still was mute. The Sage went on. " I 
almost forget the nam.e of enemy, when I reflect on the misery 
of man. The malignant passions that excite hostilities, between 
nations or individuals, seldom return on the aggressor's heads. 
Were this the case, m.oral justice would be satisfied, and reason 
would have less to censure or lament. But when the innocent 

* Pronounced war'-yur. 

17 



194 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

suffer for the guilty, who can think without concern, or with- 
hokl commiseration, though fell necessity may sanction the de- 
vastations of war." 

5. " Do you mean to insult me. Sir?" sternly demanded the 
Hero. " This canting hypocritical affectation of sentiment I will 
not brook. But you are too insignificant for my resentment." 
" I confess my insignificance," rejoined the Sage, " my actions 
have never been blazoned in gazettes ; yet I have neither been 
idle nor uselessly employed. As far as my abilities would allow, 
I have endeavored to make mankind wiser and better. If I 
have failed to increase the stock of human happiness, my heart 
does not accuse me of diminishing its supplies. Few have an 
opportunity of doing much good ; but the most insignificant 
and contemptible are qualified to do harm." 

6. Here the Hero and the Sage parted ; neither was able to 
convince the other of the importance of his services ; the for- 
mer ordered his coach, and was gazed at with admiration by 
the unthinking mob ; the latter retired to his garret, and was 
forgotten. 



LESSON C. 

The Blind Preacher. — Wirt. ,^ 

1. 1 HAVE been, my dear S , on an excursion through the 

countries which lie along the eastern side of the Blue Ridge ;* 
a general description of that country and its inhabitants, may 
form the subject of a future letter. For the present, I must 
entertain you with an account of a most singular and interesting 
adventure, which I met jyith in the course of my tour. 

2. It was one Sabbath, as I travelled through the county of 
Orange, that my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied near 
an old, ruinous, wooden house, in the forest, and not far from 
the road side. Having frequently seen such objects before, in 
travelling through these states, I had no difficulty in understand- 
ing that this was a place of religious worship. Devotion, alone, 
should have stopped me to join in the duties of the congregation, 
but I must confess that curiosity to hear tlie preacher of such a 
wilderness was not the least of my motives. 

3. On entering the house, I was struck with his. preternatural 
appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man ; his head, 
which was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, 

* A ridge of mountains in Virginia, east of the Alleghany range. 



INATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 195 

and his voice, were all shaking under the influence of a palsy ; 
and a few moments convinced rae that heVas blind. The first 
emotions which touched my breast, were those of mingled pity 
and veneration. 

4. But ah ! how soon were all my feelings changed! It was 
a day of the administration Of the sacrament, and his subject, 
of course, was the passion of our Saviour. I had heard the 
subject handled a thousand times. I had supposed it exhausted 
long ago. Little did I expect that in the wild v/oods of America 
1 was to meet with a man whose eloquence would give to this 
topic a new and more sublime pathos, than I had ever before 
witnessed. 

5. As he descended from the pulpit, to distribute the mystic 
symbols, there was a peculiar, a more than human solemnity in 
his air and manner, which made my blood to run cold, and my 
ivhole frame to shiver. He then drew a picture of the sufferings 
of our Saviour; — ^his ti'ial before Pilate ; — his ascent up Calva- 
ry ; — his crucifixion, — and his death. I Jcneio the whole his- 
tory ; but never, until then, had I heard the circumstances so 
selected, so arranged, so colored ! It was all new, and I seemed 
to have heard it for the first time in my life. His enunciation 
was so deliberate, that his voice trembled on every syllable ; 
and every heart in the assembly trembled in unison. 

6. His peculiar phrases, had such a force of description, that 
ihe original scene appeared, at that moment, acting before our 
eyes- We saw the very faces of the Jews, — the starting, fright- 
ful distortions of malice and rage. We saw the buffet ; — my 
soul kindled with a ilame of indignation, and my hands were 
involuntarily and convulsively clenched. 

7. But when he came to touch the patience, the forgiving 
TneeJcness of our Saviour, — when he drew, to the life, his blessed 
eyes streaming in tears to heaven — his voice breathing to God, 
a soft and gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies : " Father, 
forgive them, for they know not what they do," — the voice of 
the preacher, which had all along faultered,' grew fainter and 
fainter, until his utterance became entirely obscured by the 
force of his feelings; he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and 
burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of tears. The eflect 
was inconceivable. The whole house resounded mth the min- 
gled groans, and sobs, and shrieks of the congregation. 

8. It was some time before the tumult had subsided, so as to 
permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual, but fal- 
lacious standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy 
for the situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive how 



196 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

he would be able to let his audience down from tlie height* to 
which he had Avound them, Avithout impairing the dignity and 
solemnity of his subject, or, perhaps, shock them by the abrupt- 
ness of the fall. 

9. But — no: the descent was as beautiful and subhme, as 
the elevation had been rapid and enthusiastic. The first sen- 
tence which broke the awful silence, was a quotation from 
Rousseau if " Socrates died hke a philosopher, hui Jesus Christ, 
like a God ! /" Whatever I had been able to conceive of the 
sublimity of Massilon,| or the force of Bourdaloue,|| had fallen 
far short of the power which I felt from the delivery of this 
simple sentence. 

10. The blood, which, just before had rushed in a hurricane 
upon my brain, and, in the violence and agony of my feelings, 
had held my whole system in suspense; now ran back into my 
heart, with a sensation which I cannot describe ; a kind of 
shuddering delicious horror ! The paroxysm of mingled pity 
and indignation to which I had been transported, subsided into 
the deepest self-abasement, humility, and sympathy for our 
Saviour, as a fellow creature : — but now, with fear and trem- 
bling, I adored him as " a God ! f 



LESSON CL 
Specimen of Welch Preaching. — London Jewish Exposi- 



tor, 



1. At a meeting of ministers at Bristol,^) the Reverend Mr. 

L invited several of his brethren to sup with him ; among 

them was the minister officiating at tlie Welch meeting-house in 
that city. He was an entire stranger to all the company, and 
silently attentive to the general conversation of his brethren. 

2. The subject on which they Avere discoursing, Avas the dif- 
ferent strpiins" of public preaching. When several had given 
their opinions, and had mentioned some individuals AAdia were 
good preachers, and such as Avere models as to style and com- 
position, &c., Mr. L- turned to the Welch stranger and 

solicited his opinion. ^ 

* Pronounced hite. 

t John James Rousseau, a celebrated philosopher, born iu Geneva, in 
Switzerland, A. D. 1711. 

1: A famous French preacher, born in A. D. 1663. 

fl A distinguished French preacher, born in A. D. 1632. 

§ A city in the western part of England, situated on the river Avon. 



NATIONAL PKECEPTOK. 107 

3. He said he felt it to be a privilege to be silent when such 
tiien were discoursing: but that he felt it a duty to comply with 
this request ; " but," said he, " if I must give my opinion, I 
should say you had no good preachers in England." "No !" 
said Mr. L. " No," said he, "- that is^ I mean, no such preach- 
ers as we have in the principality." 

4. " I know," said Mr. L., " you are famous for jumping in 
Wales, but that is owing, I suppose, as much to the strain of 
preaching which the people hear, as to the enthusiasm of their 
characters." "Indeed," said the Welchman, "^ou would 
jump too, if you heard and Understood such preaching." 

5. " Why," said Mr. L., " do you not think I could make 
them jump, if I were to preach to them ?" " You make them 
jump !" exclaimed the Welchman, " you make them jump ! a 

W elchman would set fire to the world, while you were lighting 
your match." 

6. The whole company became very much interested in this 
new turn of the subject, and unanimously requested the good 
man to give them some specimen of the style and manner of 
preaching in the principality. 

7. " Specimen," gaid he, " I cannot give you ; if John Elias 
Was here, he v/ould give you a specimen indeed. Oh ! John 
Eli as is an excellent preacher." Well, said the company^ give 
Us something that you have heard from him. 

8. "Oh, no !" said he, " I cannot do justice to it; besides^ 
do you understand the Welch language ?" They said no, not 
so as to follow a discourse. "Then," said he, "it is impossible 
for ye to understand, if I were to give you a specimen." 

9. But, said they, canilot you put it mto English ? " Oh !'* 
said he, "your poor meagre language would spoil it; it is not 
capable of expressing those ideas which a Welchman can con* 
ceive ; 1 cannot give you a specimen in English without spoil- 
ing it." 

10. The interest of the company Was increased, and nothing 
would do but something of a specimen, while they promised to 
make every allowance for the language. 

11. " Well," said the Welchman, " if you must have a piece, 
I must try ; but I don't know what to give you ; I do not recol- 
lect a piece of John Elias ; he is our best preacher. I must 
think a little ; — -well, I recollect a piece of Christmas Evans. 

12. " Christmas Evans was a good preacher, and I heard 
him a little time ago, at an association of ministers. He was 
preaching on the depravity of man by sin ; of liis recovery by 
the death of Christ, and he said—' Brethren, if I were to pre* 

17* 



198 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

sent to yoii, iil a figure, the condition of man as a sinner, and 
the means of his recovery by the cross of Jesus Christ, I should 
present somewhat in this way. 

13. "" Suppose a large grave-yard, surrounded by a high wall, 
with only one entrance, which is by a large iron gate, which is 
fest bolted ; within these walls are thousands and tens of thou- 
sands of human beings, of all ages and of all classes, by one 
epidemic disease bending to the grave ; the grave yawns to 
receive them, and they must all die ; there is no balm to relieve 
them, no physician there — they must perish. 

14. " ' This is the condition of man as a sinner — all, all have 
sinned, and the soul that sinneth it shall die. "While m.an was 
in this deplorable state, Mercy, the darling attribute of Deity, 
came down and stood at the gate, looking at the scene, and 
wept over it, exclaiming, oh, that I might enter, I would bind 
up their wounds, I would relieve their sorrows — I would save 
their souls. 

15. " ' While Mercy stood weeping at the gate, an embassy 
of angels, commissioned from the court of Heaven to another 
world, passing over, paused at the sight — and Heaven forgave 
that pause — and seeing Mercy standing there, they cried, Mercy, 
Mercy, can you not enter ? Can you look upon this scene and 
not pity ? Can you pity and not relieve ? Mercy replied, I can 
see, and in her tears added, I can pity, but I cannot relieve. 

16. "* Why can you not enter? Oh, said Mercy, Justice has 
barred the gate against me, and I cannot, must not unbar it. 
At this moment. Justice himself appeared, as it were to watch 
the gate. The angels inquired of him, why v/ill you not let 
Mercy in ? Justice replied, my law is broken, and it must be 
honored : die they, or Justice must. 

17. '"At this, there appeared a form among the angelic band, 
like unto the Son of God, who, addressing himself to Justice, 
said, what are thy demands ? Justice replied, my terms are 
stern and rigid ; I must have sickness for their health, I must 
have ignominy for their honor, I must have death for life. — 
Without shedding of blood there is no remission. 

18. " ' Justice, said the Son of God, I accept, thy terms ; on 
me be this Avrong, and let Mercy enter. When, said Justice, 
will you perform this promise ? Jesus replied, four thousand 
years hence, upon the hill of Calvary, without the gates of 
Jerusalem, I will perform it in my own person. 

19. " ' The deed was prepared and signed in the presence of 
the Angels of God, Justice was satisfied, and Mercy entered, 
preariiing salvatiou in the name of Jesus ; the deed was com^ 



NATIONAL PRECEI^TOH. 190 

mitted to the Patriarchs, by them to the Kings of Israel and the 
Prophets; by them it was preserved till Daniel's seventy weeks 
were accomplished; then, at the appointed time, Justice ap- 
peared on the hill of Calvary, and Mercy presented to him th« 
important deed. 

20. " * Where,' said Justice, ' is the Son of God?' Mercy an- 
swered, behold him at the bottom of the hill, bearing his own 
cross ; and then he departed and stood aloof, at the hour of trial. 
Jesus ascended the hill, w^hile in his train followed his weeping 
church. 

21. "Justice immediately presented him the deed, saying, 
this is the day when this bond is to be executed. When he 
received it, did he tear it in pieces and give it to the winds 
of heaven ? No, he nailed it to the cross, exclaiming. It is 
finished. 

22. " Justice called on holy fire to come down and consume 
the sacrifice. Holy fire descended, it swallowed his humanity, 
but when it touched his Deity it expired — and there was dark-* 
ness over the whole heavens : but ' Glory to God in the highest, 
on earth peace, good will to men.' " — This, said the Welchman, 
is but a specimen of Christmas Evans. 



LESSON CII. 
Happiness. — Lacon. 

1. What is earthly happiness 1 that phantom of which we 
hear so much, and see so little 1 whose promises are constantly 
given and constantly broken, but as constantly believed 1 that 
cheats us with the sound instead of the substance, and with the 
blossom instead of the fruit ? 

2. Like Juno,* she is a goddess in pursuit, but a cloud in 
possession ; deified by those who cannot enjoy her, and despis- 
ed by those who can. Anticipation is her herald, but Disap- 
pointment is her companion ; the first addresses itself to our 
imagination, that would believe, but the latter to otir experience 
that mUst. 

3. Happiness, that grand mistress of the ceremonies in the 
dance of life, impels us through all its mazes and meanderings, 
but leads none of us by the same route. Aristippusf pursued 
her in pleasure, Socratesf in wisdom, and Epicurusf in both ; 
she received the attentions of each, but bestowed her endear- 

* A heathen goddess. + A Grecian philosopher. 



tm NATIONAL PRECEPrOR. 

merits on heither ; although, hke some other gallants, they all 
boasted of more favours than they had received. 

4. Warned by their failure, the stoic* adopted a most para- 
doxical mode of preferring his suit ; he thought, by slandering, 
to Avoo her ; by shunning, to win her ; and proudly pi'esumed, 
that by fleeing her, she would tufn and follow him. 

5. She is deceitful as the calm that precedes the hurricane ? 
smooth as the water on the verge of the cataract; and beautiful 
as the rainbow, that smiling daughter of the storm ; but, like 
the miragef in the desert, she tantalizes us wdth a delusion that 
distance creates^ and that contiguity desti'oys* 

6. Yet, when unsought, she is often found, and when unex* 
pected, often obtained ; while those who seek for her the 
most diligently, fail the most, because they seek her M'here she 
is not. 

7. AntonyJ sought her in love ; Brutus^ in glory ; Cesar| 
in dominion ; the first found disgrace, — the second disgust,-— 
the last ingratitude, — and each destruction. To some she is 
more kind, but not less cruel ; she hands them her cup, and 
they drink even to stupefaction, until they doubt whether they 
are men with Philip,|| or di*eam that they are gods with 
Alexander. |{ 

8. On some she smiles as on Napoleon, § with an aspect 
more bewitching than an Italian sun ; but it is only to make 
her frown the more terrible^ and by one short caress to embitter 
the pangs of separation. Yet is she, by universal homage and 
consent, a queen ; and the passions are the vassal lords that 
crowd her coilrt, await her mandate, and move at her control. 

9. But, like other mighty sovereigns, she is so surrounded 
by her envoys, her officers, and her ministers of state, that it is 
extremely difficult to be admitted to her presence-chamber, or 
to have any immediate communication with herself. Ambitionj 
Avarice, Love, Revenge, all these seek her, and her alone ; 
alas ! they are neither presented to her, nor will she come to 
them. 

10. She despatches, however, her envoys unto them — mean 
and poor representatives of their queen. To Ambition, she 

* Stoics, a set of heathen philosophers) who prided themselves in ai'i 
affected indifference to pleasure or pain. 

t A curious phenomenon, supposed to result fi'om an inverted image of 
tho sky intermixed vsith the ground scenery. They are seen principally in 
ha African deserts. 

t A Roman General. 

a A king of Macedon. 

S Napoleon Bonaparte, emperor of France in 1804. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 201 

sends power; to Avarice, Avealth; to Love, jealousy; to Re- 
venge, remorse ; alas ! what are these, but s j many other 
names for vexation or disappointment. 

IL Neither is she to be won by flatteries or by bribes; she 
is to be gained by waging war against her enemies, vnMch. sooner 
than by paying any particular court to herself. Those that 
conquer her adversaries, will find that they need not go to her, 
for she will come unto them. 

12. None bid so high for her as kings ; few are more willing, 
none more able, to purchase her alliance at the fullest price. 
But she has no more respect for kings than for their subjects ; 
she mocks them indeed with the empty show of a visit, by 
sending to their palaces all her equipage, her pomp, and her 
train, but she comes not herself What detains her ? She is 
travelling incognita* to keep a private assignation with Content- 
ment, and to partake of a tete-a-tete] and a dinner of herbs in 
a cottage. 

13. Hear then, mighty queen ! what sovereigns seldom hear, 
the words of soberness and truth. I neither despise thee too 
little, nor desire thee too much ; for thou wieldest an earthly 
sceptre, and thy gifts cannot exceed thy dominion. Like other 
potentates, thou also art a creature of circiimstance, and an 
ephemeris| of Time. 

14. Like other potentates, thou also, when stripped of thy 
auxiliaries, art no longer competent even to thine own subsist- 
ence; nay, thou canst not even stand by thyself. Unsupported 
by Content on the one hand, and by Health on the other, thou 
fallest an unwieldy and bloated pageant to the ground. 



LESSON CIIL 

William TeZZ.fi — Knowles. 

Gesler, the tyrant — Sarnem, his officer — and Wm. Tell, a Swiss peasant. 

Sar. Down, slave, upon thy knees before the governor, 
And beg for mercy. 

Ges. Does he hear ? 

Sar. He does, but braves thy power. \To Tell] Down, slave, 
And ask for life. 

* In disguise, or in private. 

t Tete-a-tete, face to face, or a private conversation. 

J Ephemeris, a daily journal. 

U William I'ell, an illustrious Swiss patriot, and one of the heroes who 
restored liberty to their oppressed country, in 1307. Herman Gesler, the 
Austrian governor, suspecting that a conspiracy was formed against him, and 



202 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Ges. [To Tell] Why speakest thou not? 

Tell. For wonder. 

Ges. Wonder ? 

Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man. 

Ges. What should I seem ? 

Tell. A monster. 

Ges. Ha ! Beware ! — think on thy chains. 

Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down 
Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up 
Erect, with nothing but the honest pride 
Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth, 
Thou art a monster. — Think on my chains ! 
How came they on me ? 

Ges. Barest thou question me ? 

Tell. Barest thou answer ? 

Ges. Beware my vengeance. 

Tell. Can it more than kill ? 

Ges. And is not that enough : — - 

Tell. No, not enough : — 
It cannot take away the grace of life — 
The comeliness of look that virtue gives — 
Its port erect Avith consciousness of truth — 
Its rich attire of honorable deeds — 
Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues : — 
It cannot lay its hand on these, no more 
Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun, 
Or \\\\h. polluted finger tarnish it. 

Ges. But it can make thee writhe. 

Tell. It may, and I may say, 
Go on, though it should make me groan again. 

Ges. Whence coraest thou ? 

Tell. From the mountains. 

Ges. Canst tell me any news from them ? 

Tell. Ay ; — they w^atch no more the avalanche.* 

Ges. Why so? 



wishing to ascertain the spirit of the people, ordered his hat to be raised on 
a pole, and horaageto be paid to it as to himself. Tell refused to do homage 
to the hat, and was immediately seized and carried before the governor. 
Gesler ordered him to shoot an arrow at an apple placed on the head of his 
own son, or else be dragged with his child to immediate death. He shot 
the apple off his son's nead, — and soon after shot Gesler. The Swiss, 
roused to arms b}' the conduct of Tel!, drove away their Austrian masters, 
and established the independence of their country, A. D. 1307. 

* Pronounced av-a-lanch', a vast body of snow sliding down a mourtain. 



x\ATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 203 

Tell, Because they look for thee. The hurricane 
Comes unawares upon them ; from its bed 
The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track. 

Ges. What then ? 

Tell. They thank kind Providence it is not thou. 
Thou hast perverted nature in them. The earth 
Presents her fruits to them, and is not thanked. 
The harvest sun is constant, and they scarce 
Return his smile. Their flocks and herds increase, 
And they look on as men who count a loss. 
There's not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes them, but 
The thought of thee doth wither to a curse, 
As something they must lose, and had far better 
Lack. 

Ges. 'Tis well. I'd have them as their hills 
That never smile, though wanton summer tempt 
Them e'er so much. 

Tell. But they do sometimes smile. 

Ges. Ah ! — when is that ? 

Tell. When tliey do pray for vengeance. 

Ges. Dare they pray for that ? 

Tell. They dare, and they expect it, too. 

Ges. From whence ? 

Tell. From Heaven, and their true hearts. 

Ges. [To Sarnem.] Lead in his son. Now will I take 
Exquisite vengeance. [To Tell, as the hoy enters.] I have des- 
tined hira 
To die along with thee. 

Tell. To die ! for what? he's but a child. 

Ges. ' He's thine, however. 

Tell. He is an only child. 

Ges. So much the easier to crush the race. 

Tell. He may have a mother. 

Ges. So tlie viper hath — 
And yet who spares it for the mother's sake ? 

Tell. I talk to stone. I'll talk to it no more. 
Come, my boy, I taught thee how to live, — 
I'll teach thee, — how to die. 

Ges. But first, I'd see thee make 
A trial of thy skill with that same bow. 
Thy arrows never miss, 'tis said. 

Tell. What is the trial ? 

Ges. Thou look'st upon thy boy as though thou guessestit 

Tell. Look upon my boy !' what me&xi you ? 



204 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Look upon my boy as though I guessed it ! — 
Guessed the trial thoud'st have me make ! — 
Guessed it instinctively ! Thou dost not mean — • 
No, no — Thou wouldst not have me make > 
A trial of my skill upon my child ! 
Impossible ! I do not guess thy meaning. 

Ges. I'd see thee hit an apple on his head, 
Three hundred paces off. 

Tell. Great Heaven ! 

Ges. On this condition only will I spare 
His life and thine. 

Tell. Ferocious monster ! make a father 
Murder his own child ! 

Ges. Dost thou consent 1 

Tell. With his own hand ! — 
The hand I've led him when an infant by ! 
My hands are free from blood, and have no gust 
Eor it, that they should drink my child's. 
I'll not murder my boy, for Gesler. 

Boy. You will not hit me, father. You'll be sure 
To hit the apple. Will you not save me, father ? 

Tell. Lead me forth — I'll make the trial. 

Boy. Father- 

Tell. Speak not to iiie ; — 
Let me not hear thy voice — Thou must be dumb ; 
And so should all things be — Earth should be dumb, 
And Heaven, unless its thunder muttered at 
The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it. — 
Give me my bow and quiver. 

Ges. When all is ready. Sarnem, measure hence 
The distance — three hundred paces. 

Tell. Will he do it fairly? 

Ges. What is't to thee, fairly or not. 

Tell, [^sarcastically.'] O, nothing, a little thing, 
A YQTy little thing ; I only shoot 
At my child ! 

[Sarnem prepares to measure,'] 
Villain, stop ! you measure against the sun. 

Ges. And what of that ? 
What matter whether to or from the sun ? 

Tell. I'd have it at my back. The sun should shine 
Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots — 
I mil not shoot against the sun. 

Ges. Give him his way. \^Sarncm paces and goes out.^ 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 205 

Tell, I should like to see the apple I must hit. 
Ges, \Picks out tlie smallest one] There, take that. 
Tell. You've picked the smallest one. 
Ges. I know I have. Thy skill will be 
The greater if thou hittest it. 

Tell, [sarcastically.] True — true ! I did not think of that 
I wonder I did not think of that. A larger one 
Had given me a chance to save my boy. — 
Give me my bow. Let me see my quiver. 

Ges. Give him a single arrow. [To an attendant.] 

[Tell looks at it and breaks it.] 
Tell. Let me see my quiver. It is not 
One arrow in a dozen I would use 
To shoot with at a dove, much less a dove 
Like that. 

Ges. Show him the quiver. 

[Sarne7n returns and takes the apple and the hoy to 
place them. While this is doing, Tell conceals an 
arrow under his garment. He then selects another 
arrow, and says,] 
Tell. Is the boy ready ? Keep silence now 
For Heaven's sake, and be my witnesses, 
That if his life's in peril from my hand, 
'Tis only for the chance of saving it. 
For mercy's sake keep motionless and silent. 

[He aims and shoots in the direction of the hoy. In 
a moment Sarnem enters with the apple on the ar- 
row^ s point. 
Sar.. The boy is safe. 
Tell. [Raising his arms.] Thank Heaven! 

[As he raises his arms the concealed arroio falls. 
Ges. [Picking it up.] Unequalled archer ! why was this 

concealed ? 
Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy. 



LESSON CIV. 

The Philosopher's Scales. — Jane Taylor. 

'LA Monk* when his rites sacerdotal were o'er. 

In the depth of his cell, Avith its stone-covered floor, 

* Monk, a member of the Roman Catholic church, who has taken a vo'V 
of poverty and celibacy. 

18 



206 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, 
Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain : 
But whether by magic's or alchymy's powers, 
We know not — indeed, 'tis no business of ours : 

2. Perhaps it was only by patience and care, 

At last, that he brought his invention to bear ; 

In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away, 

And ere 'twas complete, he was wrinkled and gray ; 

But success is secure, unless energy fails — 

And at length he produced the Philosopher's Scales. 

3. "What were they ?" you ask ; you shall presently see ; 
These scales were not made to w^eigh sugar ^ and tea; 

O no ; for such properties wondrous had they, 

That qualities, feelings, and thoughts, they could weigh: 

Together with articles small, or immense, 

From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense ; 

4. Nought was there so bulky, but there it could lay, 
And nought so ethereal, bat there it would stay, 
And nought so reluctant, but in it must go — 

All which some examples more clearly will show. 

5. The first tiling he weighed was the head of Voltaire,* 
Which retained all the wit that had ever been there ; 
As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf, 
Containing the prayer of the Penitent Thief ; 
When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell, 
That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell. 

6. One time he put in Alexander the Great, f 

With a garment, that DorcasJ had made, for a weight, 
And 'hough clad in armor from sandals to crown. 
The Hero rose up, and the garment went down. 

* Voltaire, a celebrated French historian, philosopher, dramafic writer, 
and epic poet, was born at Paris, 1694, and died 1778. He possessed un- 
common powers of mind, but was inconstant and unstable ; and it is to be 
regretted that he employed his talents in advancing the cause of infidelity. 

t A king of Macedon, born at Pella, B. C. 355. After extending his 
power over Greece, he invaded Asia. He defeated the Persians at the three 
celebrated battles of the Granicus, of Issus, and of Arbela, which rendered 
him the master of the country. He afterwards returned to Babylon, where 
he died of intemperance, B. C. 333, in the 33d year of his age, and 13th of 
h4S reign. 

t See Acts, chap ix. 39 



NATIONAL PREC±:PT0R. 207 

7. A long row of alms-houses, amply endowed 
By a well esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, 
Next loaded one scale ; while the other was prest 

By those mites ihe Poor Widow* dropt into the chest ; 

Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce, 

And down, down the farthing-worth went with a bounce. 

8. Again, he performed an experiment rare — 
A monk, with austerities, bleeding and bare. 
Climbed into his scale — in the other was laid 
The heart of our Howard, now partly decayed — 
When he found with surprise, that the whole of his brother 
Weighed less by some pounds than the hit of the other. 

9. By further experiments, (no matter how,) 

He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough ; 
A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the scale, 
Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail — 
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear, 
Weighed bss than a widow's uncrystallized tear — • 

10. A Lord and a Lady went up at full sail, 

When a Bee chanced to light on the opposite scale — 
Ten Doctors, ten Lav/yers, two Courtiers, one Earl, 
Ten Counsellor's Wigs, full of powder and curl. 
All heaped in one balance, and swinging from thence, 
Weighed less. than a few grains of candor and sense ; 

n. A first water Diamond, with brilliants begirt, 

Than one good potatoe, just washed from the dirt : 

Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suflice. 

One pearl to outweigh — 'twas the Pearlf of great price ! 

12. Last of all, the whole \v^orld was bowled in at the grate, 
With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight — 
When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff 
That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof — 
When balanced in air, it ascended on high, 
And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky — 
While the scale Avith the soul in, so mightily fell, 
That it jerked the Philosopher out of his cell. 

Moral. 

(3. Dear Reader, if e'er self-deception prevails, 

We pray you to try the Philosopher's Scales— 
* See St. Mark, chap. xii. 42. t Religion — see Matthew, chap. xiii. 46. 



208 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

But if tliey are lost in the ruins around, 
Perhaps a good substitute, thus may be found : 
Let Judgment and Conscience, in circles be cut, 
To which strings of Thought, may be carefully put- 
Let these be made even with caution extreme, 
And Impartiality serve for a beam. 
Then bring those good actions, which pride overrates, 
And tear up your motives, in bits, for the Weights. 



LESSON CV. 

fin the Zoonomia of Dr. Darwin, among various instances recorded by 
tikat pliilosophical physician of what he calls maniacal hallucination, or men- 
tal delusion, is the case of a young farmer of Warwicksliire, whose story 
was well authenticated In the public papers of the time. A poor elderly 
woman in his neighborhood was in tlie habit, urged by the pinching necessi- 
ties of an inclement winter, of taking a few sticks from his grounds and his 
hedge, to preserve the fading fire in her forlorn cottage. Suspecting the 
delinquent, the hard-hearted hind watched and detected her. After wrench- 
ing from her the scanty faggot, blows and reproaches succeeded. Struck 
with the misery of her situation, and the craeLy of her oppressor, she kneel- 
ed, and, reaiing her withered hands to the cold moon, prayed that " he 
might never again know the blessing of warmth." The consciousness of 
wrong, the solemnity of the hour, the pathetic tone, " sharp misery," and 
impassioned gesture of the miseralale matron, at once extinguished the dim 
reason of the rustic. He immediately complained of a preternatural chil- 
ness, was contmually caUing for more lire and clothes, and conceived himself 
to be in a freezing state, tiU the time of his death, which happened shortly 
after. On this singular story is founded the following ballad, which is in the 
genuine spirit of a.ncient Enghsh song, and shows, by proof irrefragable, that 
simplicity, and the language of ordinary life, may be comiected with the 
most exquisite poetry. — Parmer's B'luseum.'] 

Goody Blake and Harry Gill. — Wordsworth. 

1. Oh ! what's the matter? what's the matter? 
What is't that ails young Harry Gill? 
That evermore his teeth they chatter, 
Chatter, chatter, chatter still. 

Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, 
Good duffle gray, and flannel fine ; 
He has a blanket on his back. 
And coats enough to smother nine. 

2. In March, December, and in July, 
'Tis all the same \vith Harry Gill ; 
The neighbors tell, and tell you truly, 
His teeth they chatter, chatter still. 
At night, at morning, and at noon, 
'Tis all the same with Hariy Gill : 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 209 

Beneath the sun, beneath the moon, 
His teeth they chatter, chatter still. 

3. Young- Harry was a lusty drover, 
And who so stout of limb as he ? 
His cheeks were red as ruddy clover. 
His voice was like the voice of three. 
Auld Goody Blake was old and poor 
111 fed she was, and thinly clad : 
And any man who passed her door. 
Might see how poor a hut she had. 

4. All day she spun in her poor dwelling, 
And then her three hours' m>rk at night ! 
Alas ! 'twas hardly worth the telling, 

It would not pay for candle-light. 
— This woman dwelt in Dorsetshire, 
Her hut was on a cold hill side, 
And in that country coals are dear. 
For they come far by wind and tide. 

5. By the same fire to boil their pottage. 
Two poor old dames, as I have known, 
Will often live in one small cottage, — 
But she, poor woman, dwelt alone. 
'Twas well enough when summer came, 
The long warm lightsome summer day. 
Then at her door the cant}^ dame 
Would sit, as any linnet gay. 

6. But when the ice our streams did fetter, 
Oh ! then how her old bones would shake : 
You would have said, if you had met her, 
'Twas a hard time for Goody Blake. 

Her evenings then were dull and dead ; 
Sad case it was as you may think. 
For very cold to go to bed, 
And then for cold not sleep a wink. 

7. O joy for her ! whene'er in winter, 
Tlie winds at night had made a rout, 
And scattered many a lusty splinter, 
And many a rotten bough about. 
Yet never had she, well or sick. 

As every man who knew her says, 
18* 



110 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

A pile before hand, wood or stick, 
Enough to warm her for three days. 

8. Now when the frost was past enduring, 
And made her poor old bones to ache, 
Could any thing be more alluring, 
Than an old hedge to Goody Blake '? 
And now and then it must be said, 
When her old bones were cold and chill, 
She left her fire, or left her bed. 

To seek the hedge of Harry Gill. 

9. Now Harry he had long suspected 
This trespass of ol^Goody Blake, 
And vow'd that she should be detected, 
And he on her would vengeance take. 
And oft from his warm fire he'd go, 
And to the fields his road would take, 
And there, at night, in frost and snow. 
He watch'd to seize old Goody Blake. 

10. And once behind a rick* of barley. 
Thus looking out did Harry stand ; 
The moon was full and shining clearly, 
And crisp with frost the stubble land. 
— He hears a noise— he's all awake — • 
A gain ! — on tiptoe down the hill 

He softly creeps — 'Tis Goody Blake ! 
She's at the hedge of Harry Gill. 

11. Right glad was he when he beheld her s 
Stick after stick did Goody pull, 

He stood behind a bush of elder. 
Till she had fillM her apron full. 
When with her load she turn'd about, 
The by-road back again to take. 
He started forward with a shout. 
And sprang upon poor Goody Blake. 

12. And fiercely by the arm he took her, 
And by the arm he held her fast, 
And fiercely by the arm he shook her, 
And cry'd, " I've caught you then at last I" 
Then Goody, who had nothing said, 

Her bundle from her lap let fall ; 
♦ Rick, a pile, or stack. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 211 

And kneeling on the sticks, she pray'd 
To God that is the Judge of all. 

13. She pray'd, her withered hand uprearing, 
While Harry held her by the arm — 

" God ! who art never out of hearing, 
O may he never more be warm !" 
The cold, cold moon above her head, 
Thus on her knees did Goody pray. 
Young Harry heard what she had said, 
And icy cold he turn'd away. 

14. He went complaining all the morrow, 
That he was cold and very chill : 

His face was gloom, his he^t was sorrow, 
Alas that day for Harry Gill ! 
That day he wore a riding coat, 
But not a whit the warmer he : 
Another was on Thursday brought, 
And ere the Sabbath he had three. 

15. 'Twas all in vain, a useless matter, 
And blankets were about him pinn'd : 
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter, 
Like a loose casement in the wind. 
And Harry's flesh it fell away ; 

And all who see him say 'tis plainj 
That live as long as live he may, 
He never will be warm again. 

16. No word to any man he utterSj 
Abed or up, to young or old ; 
But ever to himself he mutters, 
" Poor Harry Gill is very cold." 
Abed or up, by night or day. 

His teeth they chatter, chatter still j 
Now think, ye farmers all, I pray, 
Of Goody Blake and Harry GiiL 



LESSON CVL 

The Three Warnings, — Mrs. Thrale. 

1. The tree of deepest root is found 
Least willing still to quit the ground. 
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages, 



213 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

That love of life increased with years 
So much, that in our latter stages, 
When pains grow sharp and sickness rages, 

The greatest love of life appears. 

2. This great affection to believe, 
Which all confess, but few perceive, 
If old assertions can't prevail. 

Be pleased to hear a modern tale. 

3. When sports went round, and all were gay 
On neighbor 'Dobson's wedding-day, 

Death called aside the jocund groom 
With him into another room ; 
And looking grave, " You must," says he, 
" Quit your sweet bride, and come with me." 

4. " With you ! and quit my Susan's side ! 
With you !" the hapless husband cried ; 

" Young as I am? 'tis monstrous hard ! 
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared : 
My thoughts on other matters go. 
This is my wedding-night, you know." 

What more he urged I have not heard : 
His reasons could not well be stronger : 

So Death the poor delinquent spared, 
And left to live a little longer. 

5. Yet, calling up a serious look — 

His hour-glass trembled while he spoke, — 
" Neighbor," he said, " farewell ! no more 
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour : 
And farther to avoid all blame 
Of cruelty upon my name, 
To give you time for preparation, 
And fit you for your future station. 
Three several warnings you shall have, 
Before you're summoned to the grave. 
Willing, for once I'll quit my prey, 

And grant a kind reprieve. 
In hopes you'll have no more to say, 
But, when I call again this way. 

Well pleased, tlie world will leave." 
To these conditions both consented, 
And parted, perfectly contented. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR 313 

6. What next the hero of our tale befell, 
How long he lived, how wisely, — and how well 
It pleased him, in his prosperous course, 

To smoke his pipe, and pat his horse, — 

The willing- muse shall tell : — 
He chaffered then, he bought, he sold, 
Nor once perceived his growing old, 

Nor thought of death as near ; 
His friends not false, his wife no shrew, 
Many his gains, his children few, 

He passed his hours in peace. 
But, while he viewed his wealth increase, — 
While thus along life's dusty road 
The beaten track content he trod, — 
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares, 
Uncalled, unheeded, unawares, 

Brought on his eightieth year. 

7. And now, one night, in musing mood, 
As all alone he sate, 

The unwelcome messenger of fate 
Once more before him stood. 
Half killed with anger and surprise, 
" So soon returned !" old Dobson cries. 
" So soon, d'ye call it ?" Death replies : 
" Surely, my friend, you're but in jest : 

Since I was here before 
'Tis six-and-thirty years at least, 

And you are now fourscore." 

8. " So much the worse !" the clown rejoined i 
*' To spare the aged would be kind : 

Besides, you promised me three warnings, 
Which I have looked for nights and mornings." 

" I know," cries Death, " that, at the best, 
1 seldom am a welcome guest ; 
But don't be captious, friend, at least: 
I little thought you'd still be able 
To stump about your farm and stable : 
Your years have run to a great length ; 
I wish you joy, though, of your strength." 

9. " Hold !" says the farmer, " not so fast : 
I have been lame these four years past." 

" And no great wonder," Death replies : 
" However, you still keep your eyes ; 



214 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

And sure, to see one*s loves and friends. 
For legs and arms would make amends." 
" Perhaps," says Dobson, " so it might; 
But latterly I've lost my sight." 

" This is a shocking story, faith ; 
Yet there's some comfort, still," says Death : 
" Each strives your sadness to amuse : 
I warrant you hear all the news." 

10. " There's none," cries he ; " and if there were, 
I'm grown so deaf I could not hear." 
" Nay, then," the spectre stern rejoined, 

" These are unreasonable yearnings : 
If you are lame, and deaf, and blind, 

You've had your three sufficient warnings : 
So come along ; no more v/e'll part." 
He said, and touched him with his dart : 
And now old Dobson, turning pale. 
Yields to his fate so ends my tale. 



LESSON cvn. 

The Dervis and the Two Merchants. — Lacon. 

1. The ignorant have often given credit to the wise, for 
powers that are permitted to none, merely because the wise 
have made a proper use of those powers that are permitted to 
all. 

2. The little Arabian tale of the dervis, shall be the comment 
of this proposition. A dervis was journeying alone in the des- 
ert, when two merchants suddenly met him ; " You have lost 
a camel," said he to the merchants ; " indeed we have," they 
replied : 

3. " Was he not blind in his right eye, and lame in his left 
leg ?" said the dervis ; " he Avas," replied the merchants ; 
"had he not lost a front tooth?" said the dervis, "he had," 
rejoined the merchants ; " and was he not loaded with honey 
on one side and wheat on the oiher ?" — " most certainly he 
was," they replied, "and as you have seen him so lately, and 
marked him so particularly, you can, in all probability, conduct 
us unto him." 

4. " My friends," said the dervis, " I have never seen your 
camel, nor ever heard of him but from you." " A pretty storr, 
truly," said the merchants, " but where are the jewels whi'*^ 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 215 

formed a })art of his cargo ?" " I have neither seen your camel, 
nor your jewels," repeated the dervis. 

5. On this, they seized his person, and forthwith hurried him 
before the cadi,* where, on the strictest search, nothing could ba 
found upon him, nor could any evidence whatever be adduced 
to convict him, either of falsehood or theft. 

6. Tney were then about to proceed against him as a sorcer- 
er, when the dervis, with great calmness, thus addressed the 
court : " I have been much amused with your surprise, and own 
that there has been some ground for your suspicions ; I have 
lived long, and alone ; I can find ample scope for observation, 
even in a desert. 

7. " I knew that I had crossed the track of a camel that had 
strayed from its owner, because I saw no mark of any human 
footstep on the same route ; I knew that the animal was blind 
of one eye, because it had cropped the herbage only on one side 
of its path : and I perceived that it was lame in one leg, from 
the faint impression that particular foot had produced on the 
sand ; I concluded, that the animal had lost one tooth, because 
wherever it had grazed, a small tuft of herbage was left uninjur- 
ed, in the centre of its bite. 

8. "As to tliat which formed the burden of th^ beast, the busy 
ants informed m^e that it was corn on the one side, and the 
clustering flies, that it was honey on the other." 



LESSON CYIII. 

On the Present and Future State, — Addison. 

1. A LEWD young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him 
barefoot, " Father," says he, " you are in a very miserable con- 
dition, if there is not another world." " True, son," said the 
hermit ; " but what is thy condition if there is ?" — Man is a 
creature designed for two different states of being, or rather for 
two different lives. His first life is short and transient; his 
second permanent and lasting. 

2. The question we are all concerned in, is this — ^In which 
of these two lives is it our chief interest to make ourselves happy? 
Or, in other words — Whether we should endeavour to secure to 
ourselves the pleasures and gratifications of a life w^hich is un- 
certain and precarious, and at its utmost length, of a very incon- 
siderable duration ; or to secure to ourselves the pleasures of a 

♦ A Turkish roagistrate. 



216 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

life which is fixed and settled, and will never end ? Every man, 
upon the first hearing of this question, knov, s very well which 
side of it he ought to close with. 

3. But however right we are in theory, it is plain that in 
practice we adhere to the v/rong side of the question. We 
make provision for this life as though it were never to have an 
end ; and for the other life as though it were never to have a 
beginning. 

4. Should aspirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human 
nature, accidentally alight upon this earth, and take a survey of 
its inhabitants — What would his notions of us be ? Would he 
not think that we are a species of beings made for quite different 
ends and purposes than what we really are ? ^lust he not ima- 
gine that Ave were placed in this woi'ld to get riches and honors ? 
Would he not think that it was our duty to toil after wealth, 
and station, and title ? 

5. Nay, would he not believe we were forbidden poverty, by 
threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to pursue our pleas- 
ures, under pain of damnation ? He would certainly imagine 
that we were influenced by a sdieme of duties quite opposite to 
those which are indeed prescribed to us. 

6. And, truly, according to such an imagination, he must 
conclude that we are a species of the most obedient creatures in 
the universe ; — that V\'e are constant to our duty ; and that we 
keep a steady eye on the end for which we were sent hither. 

7. But how great would be his astonishment, when he learnt 
that we were beings not designed to exist in this world above 
three score and ten years : and that the o-reatest part of this busy 
species fall short even of that age ! Hov/ vrould he be lost in. 
horror and admiration, when he should know that this set of 
creatures, vA\o lay out all (heir endeavors for this life, which 
scarce deserves the name of existence, when, I say, he should 
know that this set of creatures are to exist to all eternity in anoth- 
er life, for which they make no preparations ? 

■ 8. Nothing can be a greater disgrace to reason, than that men 
who are persuaded of these two different states of being, should 
be perpetually employed in providing for a life of three score 
and ten years, and neglecting to m.ake provision for that, which, 
after many myriads of years, will be still newand still beginning; 
especially when we consider, that our endeavors for making our- 
selves great, or rich, or honorable, or whatever else we place our 
happiness in, may, after all, prove unsuccessful ; whereas, if we 
constantly and sincerely endeavor to make ourselves happy in 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 217 

the other hfe^ we are sure that our endeavors will succeed, and 
that we shall not be disappointed of our hope. 

9. The following question is started by one of our schoolmen. 
Supposing the whole body of the earth were a great ball or mass 
of the finest sand, and that a single grain or particle of this sand 
should be annihilated every thousand years? — Supposing, then, 
that you had it in your choice to be happy all the while this 
prodigious mass of sand was consuming, by this slow method, 
until there was not a grain left, on condition that you were to 
be miserable forever after? Or, supposing that you might be 
happy for ever after, on condition you would be miserable until 
the whole mass of sand were thus annihilated, at the rate of one 
sand in a thousand years; — which of these two cases would you 
make your choice ? 

10. It must be confessed, in this case, so many thousands of 
years are to the imagination as a kind of eternity, though, in 
reality, they do not bear so great a proportion to that duration 
which is to follow them, as an unit does to the greatest number 
which you can put together in figures, or as one of those sands 
to the supposed heap. Reason therefore tells us, without any 
manner of hesitation, which would be the better part in this 
choice. 

1 1 . However, as I have before intimated, our reason might, 
in such a case, be so overset by imagination, as to dispose some 
persons to sink under the consideration of the great length of 
the first part of this duration, and of the great distance of that 
second duration which is to succeed it ; — the mind, I say, might 
give itself up to that happiness which is at hand, considering, 
that it is so very near, and that it would last so very long. 

12. But when the choice we Iiave actually before us is this — 
Whether we will choose to be happy for the space of only three 
score and ten, nay, perhaps of only twenty or ten years, I might 
say for only a day or an hour, and miserable to all eternity ; or, 
on the contrary, miserable for this short term of years, and 
happy f(>r a whole eternity — what words are sufiicient to express 
that folly and want of consideration which, in such case, makes 
a wrong choice ! 

13. I here put the case even at the worst, by supposing what 
seldom happens, — that a course of virtue makes us miserable in 
'this life: but if we suppose, as it generally happens, that virtue 
would make us more happy, even in this life, than a contrary 
course of vice, how can we sufficiently admire the stupidity or 
madness of those persons who are capable of making so absurd 
a choice ? 

19 



218 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

14. Every wise man, therefore, will consider this life only as 
it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and cheerfully 
sacrifice the pleasures of a few years, to those of an eternity. 



LESSON CIX. 

My Mother^s Picture. — Cowper. 

1. O THAT those lips had langiiao^e ! life has pass'd 
With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 

My mother, when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son. 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? 
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss ; 
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss : 
Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes. 

2. I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day • 
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away ; 
And, turning from my nurs'ry windov/, drew 
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu. 

But was it such ? — It was — where thou art gone, 
Adieus and farewells, are a sound unknown. 
And if this meet thee on that peaceful shore. 
The parting word shall pass my lips no more 

3. Thy maidens, griev'd themselves at my rt n^'.cvi^- 
Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 

What ardently I wish'd, I long believ'd. 
And, disappointed still, was still deceiv'd. 
By expectation, every day beguil'd, 
Dupe of to-morrow, even v/hen a child. 
Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went. 
Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, 
I learn'd, at last, submission to my lot ; 
But, though I less deplore thee, ne'er forgot. 

4. My boast is not, that I deduce my birth 
Irom loins enthron'd, and rulers of the earth; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise, — 
The son of parents pass'd into the skies. 
And now, farewell. Time unrevok'd has run 
His wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done. 

5. By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem t' have liv'd my childhood o'er again ; 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 319 

To have renew'd the joys that once were minej 
Without the sin of violating thine ; 
And while the wings of fancy still are free, 
And I can view this mimic show of thee, 
Time has but half succeeded in his theft ; 
Thyself remov'd, thy pov/'r to soothe me, left. 



LESSON ex. ' ^ : 

Ode to Disappointment. — Henry Kirke White. 

L Come, Disappointn:ient, come, 
Not in thy terrors clad ; 
Come in th/ meekest, saddest guise ; 
Thy chastening rod but terrifies 
The restless and the bad. 
But I recline 
Beneath thy shrine, 
And round my brow resign'd, thy peaceful cypress twine, 

2. Though Fancy flies away 

Before thy hollow tread, 
Yet meditation, in her cell. 
Hears, with faint eye, the lingering knell, 
That tells her hopes are dead ; 
And though the tear 
By chance appear, 
Yet she can smile and say, my all was not laid here. 

3. Come, Disappointment, come. 

Though from hope's summit hurl'd. 
Still, rigid nursL, thou art forgiven. 
For thou severe v/ert sent from heaven 
To wean me from the world : 
To turn my eye 
From vanity, 
And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die. 

4. What is this passing sc^ne ? 

A peevish April day ! 
A little sun, a little rain, 
And then night sv^eeps along the plain, 
And all things fade away. 
Man (soon discuss'd) 
Yields up his trust, 
And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust. 



S30 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

5. Oh ! what is Beauty's power ? 

It flourishes and dies ; 
Will the cold earth its silence break, 
To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek 
Beneath its surface lies ? 
Mute, mute is all 
O'er Beauty's fall ; 
Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall. 

6. The most beloved on earth 

Not long survives to-day ; 
So music past is obsolete, 
And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, 
But now 'tis gone away. 
Thus does the shade 
In memory fade. 
When in forsaken tomb, the form beloved is laid. 

7. Then since this world is vain. 

And volatile and fleet. 
Why should I lay up earthly joys 
Where rust corrupts and moth destroys, 
And cares and sorrows eat ? 
Why fly from ill 
With anxious skill. 
When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still. 

8. Come, Disappointment, come ! 

Thou art not stern to me : 
Sad monitress ! I own thy sway ; 
A votary sad in early day, 
I bend my knee to thee. 
From sun to sun 
My race will run, 
I only bow and say — my God, thy will be done. 



LESSON CXI. 
What is Time ? — Marsden. 

1. 1 ASKED an aged man, a man of cares. 

Wrinkled, and curved, and white with hoary hairs ; 
" Time is the warp of Ufe," he said, " Oh, tell 
The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well '" 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 281 

2.1 asked the ancient, venerable dead, 

Sages who wrote, and v/arriors v*^ho bled ; 
From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed, 
" Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode !** 

3. 1 asked a dying sinner, ere the tide 

Of life had left his veins ; " Time !" he replied ; 
" I've lost it ! Ah, the treasure !" and he died. 

4. 1 asked the golden sun, and silver spheres, 
Those bright chronometers of days and years : 
They answered, " Time is but a meteor glare !" 
And bade us for eternity prepare. 

5. 1 asked the Seasons, in their annual round, 
Which beautify, or desolate the ground; 
And they replied, (no oracle more wise,) 
" 'Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize !" 

6. 1 asked a spirit \')st ; but oh, the shriek 

That pierced my soul ! I shudder while I speak ! 
It cried, " A particle ! a speck ! a mite 
Of endless years, duration infinite !" — 

7. Of things inanimate, my dial I 

Consulted, and it made me this reply: — 
" Time is the season fair oi living well, 
The path of glory, or the path of hell." 

8. 1 asked my Bible ; and methinks it said, 
" Time is the present-hour, — the past is fled ; 
Live ! live to-day ! to-morrow never yet 
On any human being rose or si3t." 

9. 1 asked old Father Tims himself, at last, 
But in a moment he flew swiftly past : 
His chariot v/as a cloud, the viewless wind 
His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind. 

10. I asked the mighty Angel* who shall stand 
One foot on sea, and one on solid land ; 
" I now declare, the ra^v^stery is o'er — 
Time was,'" lie cried, '' but Time shall be no more !** 

* Sec Revelation, cb id. x. 

19* 



223 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON CXIL 

Casablanca. — Mrs. Hemans. 

Young Casablanca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral cf 
the Orient, remained at his post, (in the battle of the Nile,) after the ship 
had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned ; and perished in the 
explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. 

1. The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled ; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck. 
Shone round him o'er the dead. 

2. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm ; 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud, though child-like form. 

3. The flames roll'd on — he would not go, 

Without his father's word ; 
That father, faint in death below, 
His voice no longer heard. 

4. He call'd aloud — " Say, father, say 

If yet my task is done?" 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 
Unconscious of his son. 

5. " Speak, father I" once again he cried, 

"If I may yet be gone ?" 
— And but the booming shots replied, 
And fast the flames roU'd on. 

6. Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair. 
And look'd from that lone post of death, 
In still, yet brave despair. 

7. And shouted but once more aloud, 

*_' My father ! must I stay ?" 
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud. 
The wreathing flres made way. 

8. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child. 
Like banners in the sky. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 223 

9. There came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — Oh ! where was he 1 
— Ask of the winds that far around 
With fragments strewed the sea ! 

10. With mast and hehu, and pennon* fair, 

That well had borne their part — 
But the noblest thing that perished there, 
Was that young faithful heart. 



LESSON CXIIL 
The Just Judge. — Anonymous. 

1. A GENTLEMAN, who posscssed an estate, worth about five 
hundred a year, in the eastern part of England, had also two 
sons. The eldest, being of a rambling disposition, went abroad. 
After several years, his father died ; when the younger son, 
destroying his wdll, seized upon the estate. He gave out that 
his elder brother was dead, and bribed false witnesses to attest 
the truth of it. 

2. In the course of time, the elder brother returned ; but 
came home in miserable circumstances. His younger brother 
repulsed him with scorn, and told him that he Avas an impostor 
and a cheat. He asserted that his real brother was dead long 
ago ; and he could bring witnesses to prove it. The poor fel- 
low, having neither money nor friends, was in a most dismal 
situation. He went round the parish making complaints, and, 
at last to a lawyer, who, when he had heard the poor man's 
story, replied, " You have nothing to give me. If I undertake 
your cause and lose it, it will bring me into disgrace, as all the 
wealth and evidence are on your brother's side. 

3. " But, however, I will undertake your cause on this con- 
dition : you shall enter into an obligation to pay me ojie thou- 
sand guineas, if I gain the estate for you. If I lose it, I know 
the consequences ; and I venture with my eyes open." Accord- 
ingly, he entered an action against the younger brother, which 
was to be tried at the next general assizesf at Chelmsford, in 
Essex. 

4. The lawyer, having engaged in the cause of the young 
man, and stimulated by the prospect of a thousand guineas, set 
his wits to work to contrive the best methods to gain his end. 
At last he hit upon this happy thought, that he would consult 

* J^ennon, a small flag, or banner, t As-si'-7.es, a court in England. 



224 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

the first judge of his age, Lord Chief Justice Hale.f Accord- 
ingly, he hastened up to London, and laid open the cause, and 
all its circumstances. The judge, who v/as a great lover ot 
justice, heard the case attentively, and promised him ail the 
assistance in his power. 

5. The lawyer having taken leave, the judge contrived mat- 
ters so as to finish ail his business at the King's Bench, before 
the assizes began at Chelmsford. Y/hen within a siiort distance 
of the place, lie dismissed his man and horses, and sought out 
for a single house. He found one occupied by a miller. After 
some conversation, and making himself quite agreeable, he pro- 
posed to the miller to change clothes with him. As the judge 
had a very good suit on, the m.an had no reason to object. 

6. Accordingly, the judge shifted himself from top to toe. 
and put on a com.piete suit of the miller's best. Armed with a 
miller's hat, and shoes, and stick, away he marches to Chelms- 
ford, and procured good lodging, suitable for the assizes that 
sliould come on next day. When the trials came on, he walked, 
like an ignorant country fellow, backwards and forwards along 
the county hail. He had a thousand eyes within him, and wlien 
the court began to fill, he found out the poor lellow who was 
the plaintiff. 

7. As soon as he came into the hall, the miller drew up to 
him. " Honest friend," said he, " how is your cause like to go 
to-day ?" " Why," replied the plaintiff, " my cause is in a very 
precarious situation, and, if I lose it, I am ruined for life.'* 
" Well, honest friend," replied the miller, " if you will take my 
advice, I will let you into a secret, which perhaps you do not 
know ; every Englishman has the right and privilege to except 

' against any one juryman through the whole twelve ; now do 
you insist upon your privilege, without giving a reason why, 
and, if possible, get me chosen in his room, and I will do you 
all the service in my power." 

8. Accordingly, when the clerk had called over the names of 
the jurymen, the plaintiff excepted to one of them. The judge 
on the bench was highly offended with this liberty. " What do 
you mean," said he, "by excepting against that gentleman?" 
** I mean, my Lord, to assert my privilege as an Englishman, 
without giving a reason why." 

0. The judge, who had been highly bribed, in order to con- 
ceal it by a sliow of candor, and liaving a confidence in the 

* Sir Matthew Hale, a very distinguished lawyer, born in A. D. 1G09, and 
died in 1676. 



: 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 225 

superiority of his party, said, " Well, sir, as you claim your 
privilege in one instance, I will grant it. Whom would you 
wish to have in the room of that man excepted ?" After a short 
time, taken in consideration, " My lord," says he, " I wish to 
have an honest man chosen in ;" and looking round the court — 
" My lord, there is that miller in the court, we will have him,, if 
you please." Accordingly, the miller was chosen in. 

10. As soon as the clerk of the court had given them all their 
oaths, a little dexterous fellow came into the apartment, and 
shpped ten guineas into the hands of eleven jurymen, and gave 
the miller but five. He observed, that they were all bribed as 
well as himself, and said to his next neighbor, in a soft whisper, 
" how much have you got ?" '•' Ten pieces," said he. But he 
concealed what he had got himself. The cause was opened by 
the plaintiff's counsel, and all the scraps of evidence they could 
pick up were adduced in his favor. 

11. The younger brother w^as provided with a great number 
of witnesses, and pleaders, all plentifully bribed as well as the 
judge. The evidence deposed, that they were in the selfsame 
country when the brother died, and saw him buried. The 
counsellors pleaded upon this accumulated evidence : and every 
thing went with a full tide in favor of the younger brother. 
The judge summ^ed up the evidence with great gravity and 
deliberation ; — " And now, gentlemen of the jury," said he, 
" lay your heads together, and bring in your verdict as you shall 
deem most just." -^ 

12. They waited but a few minutes, before they determined 
in favor of the younger brother. The judge said, " Gentlemen, 
are you agreed, and who shall speak for you ?" — " We are all 
agreed, my lord," replied one ; " our foreman shall speak for 
us." " Hold, my lord," replied the miller, " we are not all 
agreed." '^Why?" said the judge, in a very surly manner, 
" what's the matter wdth you ? what reasons have you for 
disagreeing?" 

13 " I have several reasons, my lord," replied the miller : 
" the first is, they have given to all these gentlemen of the jury 
ten broad pieces of gold, and to me but five ; w^hich, you knovv', 
is not fair. Besides, I have many objections to make to the 
false reasonings of the pleaders, and the contradictory evidence 
of the witnesses." Upon this, the miller began a discourse, 
which discovered such vast penetration of judgment, such ex- 
tensive knowledge of law, and was expressed with such ener- 
getic and manly eloquence, that astonished the judge and the 
whole court. 



226 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

14. As he was going on v/ith his powerful demonstrations, 
the judge, in a surprise of soul, stopped him. " Where did you 
come from, and who are you?" "I came from Westminster 
Hall," replied the miller ; '" my name is Matthew Hale. I am 
lord chief justice of the King's Bench. I have observed the 
iniquity of your proceedings this day ; therefore, come down 
from a seat which you are no ways worthy to hold. You are 
one of the corrupt parties in this iniquitous business. I will 
come up this moment and try the cause all over again." 

15. Accordingly, Sir Matthew went up, v/ith his miller's 
dress and hat on, began the trial from its very commencement, 
and searched every circumstance of truth and falsehood. He 
evinced the elder brother's title to the estate, from the contra- 
dictory evidence of the witnesses^ and the false reasoning of the 
pleaders ; unravelled all the sophistry to the very bottom, aiiJ 
gained a complete \ictory in favor of truth and justice. 



LESSON CXIV. 
On Happiness. — Sterne. 

1. The great pursuit of man is after happiness ; it is the 
first and strongest desire of his nature ; — in every stage of his 
life he searches for it as for hid treasure ; courts it under a thou- 
sand different shapes ; and, though perpetually disappointed — 
still persists — runs after and inquires for it afresh — asks every 
passenger v/ho comes in- his way, "Who will show him any 
good ;" — who will assist him in the attainment of it, or direct 
him to the discovery of this great end of all his wishes ? 

2. He is told by one to search for it among the more gay and 
youthful pleasures of life ; in scenes of mirth and sprightliness, 
where happiness ever presides, and is ever to be known by the 
joy and laughter which he will see at once painted in her looks. 

3. A second, with a graver aspect, points out to him the 
costly dwelling v\'hich pride and extravagance have erected, 
tells the inquirer that the object he is in search of inhabits there, 
that happiness lives only in company with the great, in the 
midst of much pomp and outv/ard state. That he will easily 
find her out by the coat of many colors she has on, and the great 
luxury and expense of equipage and furniture with vvhich she 
always sits surrounded. 

4. The miser wonders how anyone would mislead and wilful 
ly put him upon so wrong a scent — convinces him that happiness 
and extravagance never inhabited under the same roof; — that. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 227 

if he would not be disappointed in his search, he must look into 
the plain and thrifty dwelling of the prudent man, who knows 
and understands the worth of money, and cautiously lays ii up 
against an evil hour. That it is not the prostitution of wealth 
upon tlie passions, or the parting with it at all, that constitutes 
happiness — but that it is the keeping it together, and the having 
and holding it fast to him and his heirs for ever, which are the 
chief attributes that form this great idol of human worship, to 
which so much incense is offered up every day. 

5. The epicure,* though he easily rectifies so gross a mistake, 
yet, at the same time, he plunges him,' if possible, into a greater; 
for, hearing the object of his pursuit to be happiness, and know- 
ing of no other happiness than what is seated immediately in 
his senses — he sends the inquirer there; tells him it is in vain 
to search elsewhere for it, than where nature herself has placed 
it — in the indulgence and gratification of the appetites, which 
are given us for that end : and in a word — if he will not take 
his opinion in the matter — he may trust the word of a much 
wiser man, who has assured us — that there is nothing better in 
this world, than that a man should eat and drink, and rejoice 
in his works, and make his soul enjoy good in his labor — for 
that is his portion. 

6. To rescue him from this brutal experiment — ambition 
takes him by tlie hand and carries him into the world — shows 
him all the Idngdoms of the earth, and the glory of them — ■ 
points out the many ways of advancing his fortune, and raising 
himself to honor — lays before his eyes all the charms and be 
witching temptations of power, and asks if there be any happi- 
ness in this world like that of being caressed, courted, flattered, 
•cipj] follov/ed. 

7. To close all, the philosopher meets him bustling in the full 
career of his pursuits — stops him — tells him, if he is in search 
cf happiness, he is gone far out of his way : — That this deity 
has long been banished from noise and tumults, where there 
v/as no rest found for her, and has fled into solitude, far from 
all commerce of the world ; and, in a word, if he would find 
her, he must leave this busy and intriguing scene, and go back 
to that peaceful scene of retirement and books, from which he 
first set out. 

8. In this circle, too often does a man run, tries all experi- 
ments, and generally sits down wearied and dissatisfied with 
them all at last — in utter despair of ever accomplishing v/hat 



* Epicure, one excessively fond of eating and drinking. 



228 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

he wants — not knowing what to trust to after so many disap- 
pointments — or where to lay the fault ; whether in the incapa- 
city of his own nature, or the insufficiency of the enjoyments 
themselves. 

9. There is hardly any subject more exhausted, or Avhich, ai 
one time or other, has afforded more matter for argument and 
declamation, than this one, of theinsufficiency of our enjoyments 
Scarce a reformed sensualist, from Solomon down to our own 
days , who has not in some fits of repentance or disappointment 
littered some sharp reflection upon tlie emptiness of human 
pleasure, and of the vanity of vanities which discovers itself in 
all the pursuits of mortal man. 

10. And though in our pilgrimage through this world — some 
of us may be so fortunate as to meet with some clear fountains 
by the way, that may cool for a fevv^ moments the heat of this 
great thirst of happiness — yet our Saviour, who knew the world, 
though he enjoyed but little of it, tells us, that whosoever drink- 
eth of this water will thirst again ; and we all find by experi- 
ence, that it is so, and by reason, that it always must be so. 



LESSON CXY. 
On Sincerity. — Tillotson. 

1. Truth and sincerity have all the advantages of appear- 
ance and many more. If the show of any thing be good for 
any thing, I am sure the reality is better; for why does any 
man dissemble, or seem to be that which he is not, but because 
he thinks it good to have the qualities he pretends to? For to 
counterfeit and dissem.ble, is to put on the appearance of some 
real excellency. 

2. Nov/, the best way for a m.an to seem to be any thing, is 
really to be what he would seem to be. Besides, it is often as 
troublesome to support the pretence of a good quality, as to have 
it ; and if a man have it not, it is most likely he will be discov- 
ered to want it, and then all his labor to seem to have it is lost. 
There is something unnatural in painting, which a skilful eye 
will easily discern from native beauty and complexion. 

3. It is hard to personate and act a part long ; for where 
truth is not at the bottom, nature will always be endeavoring to 
return, and will betray herself at one time or other. Therefore, 
if any man think it convenient to seem good, let him be so 
indeed, and then his goodness will appear to every one's satis- 
faction 3 for truth is convincing, and carries its own light and 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 229 

evidence along vvith.it, and will not only commend us to every 
man's conscience, but which is much more, to God, who search- 
eth our hearts. So that upon all accounts sincerity is true 
wisdom. 

4. Especially as to the affairs of this world, sincerity hath 
many advantages over all the artificial modes of dissimulation 
and deceit. It is much the plainer and easier, much the safer 
and more secure way of dealing in the world : it has less of 
trouble and difficulty, of entanglement and perplexity, of danger 
and hazard, in it ; it is the shortest and nearest way to our end, 
carrying us thither in a straight line, and will hold out and last 
longest. 

5. The arts of deceit and cunning continually grow weaker 
and less effectual and serviceable to those that practise them ; 
whereas integrity gains strength by use, and the more and lon- 
ger any man practiseth it, the greater service it does him, by 
confirming his reputal^ion, and encouraging those with whom he 
hath to do, to repose the greatest confidence in him, which is 
an unspeakable advantage in business and the affairs of life. 

6. A dissembler must always be upon his guard and watch 
him self carefully, that he do not contradict his own pretensions ; 
for he acts an unnatural part, and therefore must put a continual 
force and restraint upon himself. Whereas he that acts sincere- 
ly hath the easiest task in the world; because he follows nature, 
and so is put to no trouble and care about his words and actions; 
he needs not invent any pretences beforehand, nor make excuses 
afterwards, for any thing he hath said or done. 

7. But insincerity is very troublesome to manage ; a hypo- 
crite has so many things to attend to, as make his life a very 
perplexed and intricate thing. A liar hath need of a good 
memory, lest he contradict at one time what he said at another ; 
but truth is always consistent with itself, and needs nothing to 
help it out ; it is always near at hand, and sits upon our lips ; 
whereas a lie is troublesome, and needs a great many more to 
make it good. 

8. Add to all this, that sincerity is the most compendious 
wisdom., and an excellent instrument for the speedy despatch of 
business. It creates confidence in those we have to deal with, 
saves the labor of many inquiries, and brings things to an issue 
in a few words. It is like travelling in a plain beaten road, 
which commonly brings a man sooner to his journey's end, than 
by-ways, in which men often lose themselves. 

9. In a word, whatsoever convenience may be thought to be 
in flilsehocd and dissimulation, it is soon over ; but the incon- 

20 



230 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

venienco of it is perpetual, because it brings a man under an 
everlasting jealousy and suspicion, so that he is not believed 
when he speaks truth, nor trusted when perhaps ho means 
honestly. When a man hath once forfeited the reputation of 
his integrity, nothing will then serve his turn, neither truth nor 
falsehood. 

10 Indeed, if a man v/ere only to deal in the world for a 
day, LJd should never have occasion to converse more with 
mankind, never more need their good opinion or good word, it 
were then no great matter (as far as respects the affairs of this 
world) if he spent his reputation all at once, and ventured it at 
one throw. 

11. But if he be to continue in the v/orld, and would have 
the advantage of reputation whilst he is in it, let him make use 
of truth and sincerity in all his words and actions, for nothing 
but this will hold out to the end. All other arts will fail, but 
truth and integrity will carry a man through, and bear him out 
to the last. 



LESSON CXVL 

Story of Le Fevre. — Sterne. 

1. It was sometime in the summer of that year in which 
Dendermond* was taken by the allies, when my uncle Toby 
was one evening getting his supper, with Trim sitting behind 
him, at a small sideboard — I say sitting — for in consideration 
of the corporal's lame knee (which sometimes gave him exquis- 
ite pain) — when my uncle Toby dined or supped alone, he 
would never suffer the corporal to stand. 

2. And the poor felloVi^'s veneration for his master was such^ 
that, with a proper artillery, my uncle Toby could have taken 
Dendermond itself, with less trouble than he vv-as able to gain 
this point over him ; for many a time when my uncle Toby 
supposed the corporal's ]eg was at rest, he would look back nnd 
detect him standing behind him, with tlic most dutiful respect : 
this bred more little squabbles betwixt them, than all other 
causes, for five and twenty years together. 

3. He was one evening sitting thus at his supper, when the 
landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlor, with 
an empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass or two of sack : 'Tis 
for a poor gentleman — I think of the army, said the landlord. 

* A town in the Netherlands. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 231 

who has been taken ill at my house four days ago, and has never 
held up his head since, or had a desire to taste any thing till just 
now, that he has a fancy for a glass of sack,* and a thin toast, 
" I think," says he, taking his hand from his forehead, — " it 
would comfort me." 

4. If 1 could neither beg, borrow, nor buy such a thing — 
added the landlord — I would almost steal it for the poor genile- 
man, he is so ill — I hope he will still mend, continued he — we 
are all of us concerned for him.. 

5. Thou art a good natured soul, I will answer for thee, cried 
n-jy uncle Toby ; and lliou shalt drink the poor gentleman's 
health in a glass of sack thyself — and take a couple of bottles, 
with my service, and tell him he is heartily welcom.e to them, 
and to a dozen more, if they will do him good. 

6. Though I am persuaded, said my uncle Toby, as the land- 
lord shut the door, he is a very compassionate fellow. Trim — 
yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his guest too ; 
there must be something miore than common in him, that, in so 
short a time, should win so much upon the affections of his host. 
• — And of his whole family, added the corporal, for they are all 
concerned for him. Step after him, said my uncle Toby — do 
Trim, and ask if he knows his name. 

7. I have quite forgot it, truly, said the landlord, coming back 
into the parlor with the corporal — but I can ask his son again. — 
Has he a son with him, then ? said my uncle Toby. A boy, 
replied the landlord, of about eleven or twelve years of age ; — 
bat the poor creature has tasted almost as little as his father ; 
he does nothing but mourn and lament for him night and day. 
He has not stirred from the bed-side these two days. 

8. My uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust 
his plate from before him, as the landlord gave him the account : 
and Trim, without being ordered, took them avv-ay, v/ithout say- 
ing one word, and in a few minutes after, brought him his pipe 
and tobacco. 

9. Trim I said my uncle Toby, 1 have a project in my head, 
as it is a bad night, of wrapping myself up warm in my'roque- 
laurc,t and paying a visit to this^poor gentleman. Your honor's 
roquelaure, replied the corporal, has not once been had on since 
the night before your honor received your wound, when we 
mounted guard in the trenches before the gate of St. Nicholas ; 
— and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night, that, what with 

* Sack, a species of sweet wine," brought cliiefly from the Canary Islands, 
t Pronounced rok'-e-io, a cloak. 



233 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

tlie roquelaure, aPxd what with the weather, it will be enough to 
give your honor your death. 

10. I fear so, replied my uncle Toby ; but I am not at rest 
in my mind. Trim, since the account the landlord has given m.e 
— I wish I had not known so much of this aifair — added my 
uncle Toby — or that I had known more of it : — how shall we 
manage it? Leave it, an't* please your honor, to me, quothf 
the corporal ; — I'll take my hat and stick, and go to the house, 
and reconnoitre, and act accordingly : and I will bring your 
honor a full account in an hour. Thou shalt go, Trim, said 
my uncle Toby, and here's a shilling for thee to drink with his 
servant. I shall get it all out of him, said the corporal, shutting 
the door. 

11. It was not till my uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out 
of his third pipe, that corporal Trim returned from the inn, and 
gave him the following account: — I despaired at first, said the 
corporal, of being able to bring back your honor any kind of 
intelligence concerning the poor sick lieutenant. — Is he of the 
army, then ? said my uncle Toby. — He is, said the corporal. — ■ 
And in what regiment? said my uncle Toby — I'll tell your 
honor, replied the corporal, every thing straight forward as 1 
learnt it. 

12. Then, Trim, I'll fill another pipe, said my uncle Toby, 
and not interrupt thee ; — so sit down at thy ease, Trim, in the 
mndow seat, and begin thy story again. The corporal made 
liis old bow, which generally spoke as plain as a bow could 
speak it, " Your honor is good ;" and having done that, he sat 
down, as he was ordered — and began the story to my uncle 
Toby over again, in pretty near the same words. 

. 13. I despaired at first, said the corporal, of being able to 
bring back any intelligence to your honor, about the lieutenant 
and his son ; for when I asked where the servant was, from 
whom I made myself sure of knowing every thing that was 

proper to be asked That's a right distinction. Trim, said 

my uncle Toby — I was answered, an't please your honor, that 
he had no servant with him — That he had com.e to the inn with 
hired horses ; — which, upon finding himself unable to proceed, 
(to join, I suppose, the regiment) he had dismissed the m.orning 
after he came. 

14. If I get better, my dear, said he, as he gave his purse to 
his son to pay the man — we can hire horses from hence. But 
alas ! the poor gentleman will never get from, hence, said the 

* An't, if it. t Glucth, said. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 233 

landlady to me, for I heard the death watch all night long ; — ■ 
and when he dies, tlie youth, his son, will certainly die with 
him; for he is broken hearted already. 

15. I was hearing this account, continued the corporal^ when 
the youth came into the kitchen to order the thin toast the land- 
lord spoke of; but I will do it for my father myself, said the 
youth. Pray let me save you the trouble, young gentleman, 
said I, taking up a fork for the purpose, and offering him my 
chair to sit down upon by the fire, whilst I did it. 

16. I believe, Sir, said he very modestly, I can please him 
best myself — I am sure, said I, his honor will not like the toast 
the worse for being toasted by an old soldier. The youth took 
hold of my hand, and instantly burst into tears. Poor youth ! 
said my uncle Toby — he has been bred up from an infant in the 
army, and the name of a soldier. Trim, sounded in his ears like 
the name of a friend. I Avish I had him here. 

17. I never, in the longest march, said the corporal, had 
so great a mind to my dinner, as I had to cry with him for com- 
pany: What could be the matter with me, an't please your 
honor? Nothing in the world, Trim, said my uncle Toby, 
blowing his nose — but that th-^u art a good natured fellow. 

18. When I gave him the tiost, continued the corporal — 1 
thought it was proper to tell him 1 was captain Shandy's ser- 
vant, and that your honor (though a stranger) was extremely 
concerned for his father; and that if there was any thing in 
your house or cellar — (and thou mightest have added my purs8 
too, said my uncle Toby,) — he was heartily welcome to it. 

19. He made a very low bow (which was meant to your 
honor) — but no answer — for his heart was full — so he v/ent up 
stairs with the toast; I warrant you, my dear, said I, as t 
opened the kitchen door, your father will be well again. Mr. 
Yorick's curate was smoking a pipe by the kitchen fire, but 
said not a word, good or bad, to comfort the youth. I thought 
it wrong, added the corporal — I think so too, said my uncle 
Toby. 

20. When the lieutenant had taken his glass of sack and 
toast, he felt himself a little revived, and sent down into the 
kitchen, to let me know, that in about ten minutes, he should 
be glad iff. would step up stairs. — I believe, said the landlord, 
he is going to say his prayers — for there was a book laid upon 
the chair, by his bed-side, and as I shut the door, I saw his son 
take up a cushion. 

21. I thought, said the curate, that you gentlemen of the 
army, Mr. Trim, never said your prayers at all I heard tlie 

20* * 



234 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

poor gentleman say his prayers last night, said the landlady, 
very devoutly, and ^vitli my own ears, or I could not have 
believed it. Are you sure of it ? replied the curate. A soldier, 
an't please your reverence, said I, prays as often (of his own 
accord) as a parson; — and when he is fighting for his king, 
and for his own life, and for his honor too, he has the most 
reason to pray to God of any one in the whole world. 

22. 'Twas w^ell said of thee. Trim, said my uncle Toby, — 
but when a soldier, said I, an't please your reverence, has been 
standing for twelve hours together, in the trenches, up to Jiis 
linees in cold water — or engaged, said I, for months together, 
in long and dangerous marches: harassed, perhaps, in his rear 
to-day ; harassing others to-morrow ; — detached here — coun- 
termanded there — resting this night out upon his arms — beat up 
in his shirt the next — benumbed in his j oints — perhaps v/ithout 
straw in his tent to kneel en — he must say his prayers how and 
when he can. 

23. I believe, said I, — for Iwas piqued,* quoth the corporal, 
for the reputation of the army — I believe, an't please your rev- 
erence, said I, that when a soldier gets time to pray — he prays 
as heartily as a parson — though not with all his fuss and hypoc- 
risy. Thou shouldst not have said that, Trim, said my uncle 
Toby — for God only knows who is a hypocrite, and who is not. 
At the great and genei'al review of us all, corporal, at the day 
of judgm.ent (and not till then) — it will be seen who have done 
their duties in this world, and who have not ; and we shall be 
advanced. Trim, accordingly. 

24. I hope we shall, said Trim. — It is in the scripture, said 
my uncle Toby ; and I will show it thee to-morrow : — In the 
mean time, we may depend upon it. Trim, for our comfort, said 
my uncle Toby, that God Almighty is so good and just a gov- 
ernor of the world, that if we have but done our duties in it — it 
vv\]l never be inquired into, w^hether we have done them in a red 
coat or a black one: — I hope not, said the corporal. — But go on, 
Trim, said my uncle Toby, with the story. 

25. V/hen I went up, continued the corporal, into the lieu- 
tenant's room, which I did not do till the expiration of the ten 
minutes, he Avas laying inhis bed, with his head raised uponhis 
hand, his elbows upon the pillow, and a clean white cambric 
handkerchief beside it: The youth was just stooping down to 
take up the cushion upon which I supposed he had been kneel- 
ing — the book was laid upon the bed — and as he rose, in taking 

* Pronounced peek'd, offended. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 235 

up the cushion with one hand, he reached out his other to take 
the book away at the same time. Let it remain there, my dear, 
said the lieutenant. 

26. He did not offer to speak to me till I had walked up 
close to his bed side : If you are captain Shandy's servant, said 
he, you must present my thanks to your master, with my little 
boy's thanks along with them, for his courtesy to me : — if he 

was of Leven's sa,id the lieutenant. I told him your honor 

was then, said he, I served three campaigns with him in 

Flanders, and rem.ember him ; but 'tis most likely, as I had not 
the honor of any acquaintance with him, that he knows nothing 
of me. 

27. You will tell him, however, that the person his good 
nature has laid under obligations to him, is one Le Fevre, a 

lieutenant in Angus's* but he knovv^s me not — said he a 

second time, musing ; — possibly he may my story — added he — 
pray tell the captain, I was the ensign at Breda,t whose wife 
was most unfortunately killed with a musket shot, as she lay in 
my arms in my tent.— I remember the story, an't please your 
honor, said I, very well. 

28. Do you so ? said he, wiping his eyes with his handker- 
chief — then well may I. — — In saying this, he drew a little ring 
out of his bosom, which seemed tied with a black riband about 
his neck, and kissed it twice. — Here, Billy, said he — the boy 
flew across the room to the bed side, and falling down upon his 
knee, took the ring in his hand, and kissed it too, then kissed 
his father, and sat down upon the bed and wept. 

29. I wish, said my uncle Toby with a deep sigh — I wish, 
Trim, I was asleep. — Your honor, replied the corporal, is too 
much concerned : shall I pour your honor out a glass of sack 
to your pipe ? Do, Trim, said my uncle Toby. 

30. I remember, said my uncle Toby, sighing again, the 
story of the ensign and his wife, and particularly Vt^ell, that 
he as well as she, upon some account or other, (I forget what,) 
was universally pitied by the whole regiment ; but finish the 
story. 

31. 'Tis linished already, said the corporal, for I could stay 
no longer, so wished his honor a good night ; young Le Fevre 
rose from off the bed ; and saw me to the bottom of the stairs ; 
and as we went down together, told me they had come from 
Ireland, and were on their route to join the regiment in Flan- 
ders. But, alas ! said the corporal, the lieutenant's last day's 

* Angus's regiment, t A town in the Netherlands. 



236 NATIONAL PRECEPl'OR. 

march is over. Then what is to become of his poor boy ? cried 
my uncle Toby. 

32. Thou hast left this matter short, said my uncle Toby, to 
the corporal, as he was putting him to bed, and I will tell thee 
in what, Trim. In the first place, when thou mad'st an cfler 
of my services to Le Fevre, vas sickness and travelling are both 
expensive, and thou knewest he was but a poor lieutenant, with 
a son to subsist, as v/ell as himself, out of his pay, that thou 
didst not make an offer to him of my purse, because, had he 
stood in need, thou knowest. Trim, he had been as welcome to 
it as myself. Your honor knows, said the corporal, I had no 
orders : True, qiioth my uncle Toby, thou didst very right, 
Trim, as a soldier, but certainly, very wrong, as a man. 

33. In the second place, for vvhich, indeed, thou hast the 
same excuse, continued my uncle Toby, when thou ofieredst 
him whatever was in my house, that thou shouldesthave offered 
him my hov^e too : A sick brother officer should have the best 
quarters. Trim ; and if we had him with us, we could tend and 
look to him ; thou art an excellent nurse thyself. Trim, and 
what vdth thy care of him, and the old woman's, and his boy's, 
and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set 
him upon his legs. 

34. In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle Toby, 
smiling, he might march. He will never march, an't please 
your honor, in this Avorld, said the corporal. He will march, 
said my uncle Toby, rising up from the side of the bed, with 
one shoe off. An't please your honor, said the corporal, he will 
never march, but to his trrave. He shall march, cried my uncle 
Toby, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without 
advancing an inch, he shall march to his regiment. He cannot 
stand it, said the corporal. He shall be supported, said my uncle 
Toby. He'll drop at last, said the corporal, and what will 
become of Ins bov ? He shall not drop, said my uncle Toby, 
tinnly. A well o'day, do what we can for him, said Trim, 
maintaining his point, the poor soul will die. He shall not die, 
by H n, cried my uncle Toby. 

' 35. — The Accusing Spirit, Vhich flew up to Heaven's 
chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in; and the 
Recording Angel, as he v\'rote it down, dropped a tear upon 
the word, and blotted it out for ever. 

36. — Mv uncle Toby went to his bureau, put his purse into 
his pocket,' and having ordered the corporal to go early in the 
morning for a physician, he went to bed and fell asleep. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 237 

37. The sun looked bright -the morning after, to every eye 
in the village but Le Fevre's and his afflicted son's ; the hand 
of death pressed heavy upon his eyelids, and hardly could the 
wheel at the cistern turn round its circle, when my uncle Toby, 
who had got up an hour before his wonted time, entered the 
lieutenant's room, and without preface or apology, sat himself 
down upon the chair by the bed side, and independently of all 
modes and customs, opened the curtain, in the manner an old 
friend and brother oWeev would have done it, and asked him 
how he did — ^how he had rested in the night — what was his 
complaint — where was his pain — and what he could do to help 
him ? And without giving him time to answer any one of these 
inquiries, went on and told him of the little plan which he had 
been concerting with the corporal, the night before, for him. 

38. You shall go home directly, Le Fevre, said my uncle 
Toby, to my house — and we'll send for a doctor to see what's 
the matter — and we'll have an apothecary — and the corporal 
shall be your nurse — and I'll be your servant, Le Fevre. 

39. There was a frankness in my uncle Toby — not the effect 
of familiarity, but the cause of it — which let you at once into 
his soul, and showed you the goodness of his nature ; to this 
there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, super- 
added, which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and 
take shelter under him ; so that before my uncle Toby had half 
finished the kind offers he was making to the father, had the 
son insensibly pressed up close to his knees, and had taken hold 
of the breast of his coat, and was pulling it tov/ards him. 

40. The blood and spirit of Le Fevre, which were waxing 
cold and slow within him, and were retreating to their last 
citadel, the heart, rallied back — the film forsook his eyes for a 
moment, he looked up v^^istfully in my uncle Toby's face — then 
cast a look upon his boy. — Nature instantly ebb'd again — the 
film returned to its place — the pulse fluttered, stopped — went 
on — throbbed — stopped again — moved — stopped — shall I go 
on ?~No. 



LESSON CXYII. 
Prince Henry and Falstaff\ — Shakspeare. 

P. Henry. "Welcome, Jack! — Where hast thou been? 

Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too, 
marry and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy: — ere I lead this 
life long, I'll sew nether socks and mend them, and foot tliem 



238 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

too. A plague of all cowards ! give rne a cup of sack, rogue. 
Is there no virtue extant? [he drinks.] — You rogue, here's 
lime in this sack too. There is nothing but roguery to be found 
in villanous man ; yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack 
with lime in it. A villanous coward ! — Go thy ways, old Jack; 
die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot 
upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There 
live not three good men unhang'd in England, and one of them 
is fat and grows old, Heaven help the while ! A bad world ! I 
say — A plague of all cow^ards ! I say still. 

P.Henry. How now Woolsack! what mutter you ? 

Fal. A king's son! if I do notbeatthee out of thy kingdom 
with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like 
a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more ! 
You Prince of Wales ! 

P. Henry. Why, what's the matter ? 

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer m.e that. 

P. Henry. An'* ye call me coward, I'll stab thee. 

Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee hang'd ere I'll call thee 
coward ; b'ut I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast 
as thou canst. You're straight enough in the shoulders; you 
care not who sees your back. Call you that backing of friends ? 
a plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me— r 
give me a cup of sack: I am. a rogue if I drank to-day. 

P. Henry. O villain ! thy lips are scarce wip'd since thon 
drank'st last. 

Fal. All's one for that. [He drinJcs.] A plague of all cow- 
ards ! still, say I. 

P. Henry. What's the matter? 

Fal. What's the matter ! here be four of us have ta'en a 
thousand pound this morning. 

P. Henry. Where is it, Jack ? Where is it ? 

Fal. Where is it ! taken from us, it is : a hundred upon foui 
of us. 

p. Henry. What ! a hundred, man ? 

Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen 
of them two hours together. I have escaped by miracle. lam 
eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, 
my buckler cut through and through, my sword hack'd like a 
handsaw — I never dealt better since I w^as a man: all would 
not do. A plague of all cowards ! 

P. Henry. What, fought you v/ith them all? 

* An', if: 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 239 

Fal. All ! I know not what ye call all ; but if I fought not 
with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish ; if there were not 
two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two- 
legg'd creature. 

P. Henry. Pray Heav'n, you have not rnurder'd some of 
them ! 

Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I have pepper'd two of 
them ; two, I am sure, I have paid ; two rogues in buckram 
suits. I tell thee w1iat, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, 
call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward : here I lay, and 
thus I bore my point ; four rogues in buckram let drive at me. 

P. Henry. What, four ! thou saidst but two even now. 

Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four, — These four came all 
afront, and mainly thrust at me : I made no more ado, but took 
all their seven points in my target,* thus. 

P. Henry. Seven ! why they were but four even now. 

Fal. In buckram 1 

P. Henry. Ay, four, in buckram suits. 

Fal. Seven by these hilts, or I am a villain else. Dost thou 
hear me, Hal 1 

P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too. Jack. 

Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in 
buckram, that I told thee of — 

P. Henry. So, two more already. 

Fal. Their points being broken, began to give me ground ; 
but I followed me close, came hi foot and hand, and, with a 
thought — seven of the eleven I paid. 

P. Henry. O monstrous ! eleven buckram m^en grown out of 
two. 

Fal. But as Satan would have it, three misbegotten knaves, 
in Kendal-green, came at my back, and let drive at me ; for it 
was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. 

P. Henry. These lies are like tlie father that begets them, 
gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Wh)^ thou clay-brained 
heap, thou knotty-pated fool — 

Fal. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the truth 
the truth. 

P. Henry. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Ken- 
dal-green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand ? 
Come, tell us your reason : what say'st thou to this ? Come, 
your reason,' Jack, your reason. 



♦ Taxgct, a. sFxiall shield, used a5 a defensive weapon. 



240 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Fal. What, upon compulsion ! — No : were I at the strappado,* 
or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compul- 
sion 1 Give you a reason on compulsion ! If reasons were as 
plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon 
compulsion. 

P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine 
coward, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh — 

Fal. AAvay, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dry'd neat's 
tongue, vou stock-fish ! O, for breath to utter ! what is like 
thee ? 

P. Henry. Well, breathe a while, and then to't again ; and 
when thou hast tir'd thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak 
but this : — Poins and I saw you four set on four ; you bound 
them, and were masters of their wealth : mark now, how a plain 
tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four, 
and with a word out-fac'd you from your prize, and have it ; 
yea, and can show it you here in the house. And, FaistafF, you 
carry' d yourself away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and 
roar'd for mercy, and still ran and roar'd, as ever I heard a calf. 
What a slave art thou, to hack thy sAvord as thou hast done, 
and then say it was in fight ! What trick, what device, what 
gtarting-hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this 
open and apparent shame 1 

Fal. Ka ! ha ! ha ! — D'ye think I did not know you ? 1 
knew you as well as he that made j'ou. Why, hear ye, my 
master, was it for me to kill the heir-apparent ? should I turn 
upon the true prince ? why, thou knov/est, I am. as valiant as 
Hercules ;t but beware instinct ; the lion will not touch the 
true prince ; instinct is a great matter. I v/as a coward on 
instinct, I grant you : and I shall think the better of myself 
and thee, during my fife: I for a valiant lion, and thou for a 
true prince. But I am glad 3-0U have the money. Let us clap 
to the doors ; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Vvhat, shall 
we be merry ? shall we have a play extempore ? 

P. Henry. Content ! — and the argument shall be, thy run- 
ning away. 

Fal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an' thou lovest me. 



* Strappado, a punishment fonnerly in iise, in which the offender was 
drawn to the top of a beam, and let fall. 

t Pronounced Her'-cu-lees, a Grecian hero, distinguished fur his strength 
and valor. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 341 

LESSON CXVIII. 

Scene from the Tragedy of King John. — Shakspeare. 

Prince Arthur, Hubert, and Attendants. 

Scene. — A room in the castle, Northampton. 

Enter Hubert and two Attendants. 

Hvbert. Heat me these irons hot : and look thou stand 
Within the arras : when I strike my foot 
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, 
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me. 
Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. 

1 Attendant. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed. 

Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! Fear not you : look to't — 

[Exeunt Attendants 
Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. 
Enter Arthur. 

Arthur. Good morrow, Hubert. 

Huh. Good morrow, little prince. 

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title 
To be more prince,) as may be. — You are sad. 

Huh. Indeed, I have been merrier. 

Arth. Mercy on me ! 

Methinks, no body should be sad but I : 
Yet I remember when I was in France, 
Voung gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
I should be merry as the day is long ; 
And so I would be here, but that I doubt 
My uncle practises more harm to me : 
He is afraid of me, and I of him ; 
Is it my fault that I were Jeffrey's son ? 
No indeed, is't not; and I would to heaven, 
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 

Huh. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate 
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : 
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [Aside* 

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? You look pale to-day. 
In sooth, I would you were a little sick ; 
That I might sit all night, and watch with you. 
I warrant, I love you more than you do nis. 

21 



243 NATIONAL PRECEPTOPw. 

Hiib. His words do take possession of my bosom. — 
Read here, young Arthur. [Showing- a paver.] How now, fool- 
ish rheum? [Aside. 
Turning dispiteous torture out the door ! 
I must be brief; lest resohition drop 
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. — 
Can you not read it ? Is it not fair writ ? 

Artk. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect : 
Must you Vvdth hot irons butn out both mine eyes ! 

Hub, Young boy, I. must. 

Artk. ^ And will you ? 

Hub. ^ ^ And I mil. 

Ai.rth. Have you the heart ? When your head did but acne, 
I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
(The best I had, a princess v/rought it me,) 
And I did never ask it you again : 
And with my hand at midnight held your head, 
And like the "watchful minutes to the hour, 
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; 
Saying, What lack you 1 and, Where lies your grief? 
Or, What good love may I perform for you ? 
Many a poor man's son Vv^ould have lain still, 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; 
But you at your sick service had a prince. 
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love. 
And call it cunning : do, and if you will : 
If heaven be pleased that you should use me ill, 
Why, then you miust. — Will you put out mine eyes ? 
These eyes that never did, nor never shall, 
So much as frown on you ? 

Hub. I have sworn to do it ; 

And with hot irons must I burn them out. 

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age would do it: 
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot. 
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, 
And quench its fiery indignation, 
Even in the matter of mine innocence : 
Nay, after that, consume away in rust. 
But for containing fire to harm mine eye. 
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammicred iron ? 
And if an angel should have come to m^e. 
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
X would have beheved no tongue but Hubert's. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 243 

Hub. Come forth. [Stamps, 

Re-enter Attendants, with cord, irons, ^c. 
Do as I bid you do. 

Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! My eyes are out 
Even with the fierce looks of the bloody men. 

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. 

Arth. Alas ! what need you be so boisterous rough : 
I will not struggle, I will stand aPtone-still. 
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
Nay, hear me Hubert ! drive these men away, 
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
Nor look upon the irons angrily ; 
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, 
Whatever torment you do put me to. 

Hub. Go, stand within : let me alone with him. 

1 Atten. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. 

[Exeunt Attendants 

Arth. Alas ! I then have chid away my friend : 
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart : — 
Let him come back, that his compassion may 
Give life to yours. 

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 

Arth. Is there no remedy ? 

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 

Arth. O heaven ! that there were but a mote in yours, 
4 grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair. 
Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, 
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 

Hub. Is this your promise ? Go to, hold your tongue. 

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : 
Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hubert ! 
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, 
So I may keep mine eyes ; O, spare mine eyes ; 
Though to no use, but still to look on you ! 
Lo ! by my troth, the instrument is cold. 
And would not harm me. 

Hub. I can heat it, boy. 

Arth. No, in good sooth, the fire is dead with grief— ^" 
Being create for comfort — to be used 
In undeserved extremes : See else yourself; 
There is no malice in this burning coal ; 



S44 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

The breath of heaven hath blown its spirit out, 
And strewed repentant ashes on his head. 

Huh. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 

Artli. And if you do, you will but make it blush, 
And glow wdth shame of your proceedings, Hubert ; 
Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes, 
And, like a dog, that is compelled to fight. 
Snatch at his master that does set him on. 
All things, that you should use to do me wrong, 
Deny their office ; only you do lack 
That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends — 
Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. 

Huh. Well, see to live ; I will not touch thine eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owns ; 
Yet I am sv/orn, and I did purpose, boy. 
With this same very iron to burn them out. 

Artli. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this v/hile 
You were disguised. 

Huh. Peace : no more ; Adieu ! — 

Your uncle must not know but you are dead : 
I'll fill these dogged spies w^th false reports. 
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure 
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
Will not offend thee. 

Artli. O heaven ! — I thank you, Hubert. 

Huh. Silence : no more. Go closely in mth me ; 
Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. 



LESSON CXIX. 
Spzechof a Scythian^ Amhassador to Alexander. —Q.GvRii'ijS, 

1. When the Scythian ambassadors waited on Alexander the 
Great, they gazed on him a long tim.e without speaking a word; 
being very probably surprised, as they formed a judgment of 
men from their air and stature, to find that his did not answer 
the high idea they entertained of him from his fame. 

2. At last the oldest of the ambassadors addressed him thus : 
" Had the gods given thee a body proportionable to thy ambi- 
tion, the whole universe would have been too little for thee. 
With one hand thou wouldst touch the East, and with the other 
the West ; and not satisfied with this, thou wouldst follow the 
sun, and know where he hides himself. 

* The Scythians were a wandering people, in the eastern part of Europe 
and western part of Asia. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 245 

3. " But what have we to do with thee? We never set foot in 
thy country. May not those who inhabit woods be allowed to 
live, without knowing who thou art, and whence thou comest? 
We will neither command over, nor submit to any man. 

4. " And that thou mayst be sensible wliat kind of people 
the Scythians are, know that we received from heaven, as a rich 
present, a yoke of oxen, a ploughshare, a dart, a javelin, and a 
cup. These we make use of, both with our friends, and against 
our enemies. 

6. " To our friends we give corn, which Vv'-e procure by the 
labor of our oxen; with them we offer wine to the gods in our 
cup; and v/ith regard lo our enemies, v/e combat tliem at a dis- 
tance with our arrows, and near at hand with our javelins. 

6. " But thou, who boastest thy coming to extirpate robbers, 
art thyself the greatest robber upon earth. Thou hast plunder- 
ed all nations thi)u overcamest ; thou hast possessed thyself of 
Libya, invaded Syria, Persia, and Bactriana; thou art forming 
a design to march a?, far as India, and now thou comest hither to 
seize upon our V i?' is of cattle. 

7. "The gre^ ; possessions thou hast, only make thee covet 
the more eagerly what thou hast not. If thou art a god, thou 
oughtest to do good to mortals, and not deprive them of their 
possessions. 

8. "If thou art a mere man, reHect always on what thou art. 
They whom thou shalt not molest v/ill be thy true friends ; the 
strongest friendships being contracted between equals; and they 
are esteemed equals who have not tried their strength against 
each other. But do not suppose that those whom thou conquer- 
est can love thee." 



LESSON CXX. 
Diogenes at the Isthmian Games.*' — Wakefield'sDio Chry- 

SOSTOM. 

1. The cynic philosopher Diogenes,! observing a person 
stalking from the Stadium,| in the midst of so immense a multi- 

* So called from th^ir being celebrated on the Isthmus of Corinth, in the 
southern part of Greece. 

t Diogenes was a celebrated cynic philosopher, born 420 years B. C, at 
Sinope. He was remarkable for his contempt of riches, and for his negli- 
gence in dress ; he had no food but what was brought to him daily ; and he 
lived in a tub, of which he turned the open side toward the snan in winter, 
and the contrary in summer. After a life spent in tlie greatest indigence 
and misery, he died in the 96th year of his age. 

* A \)\m's for running, wrestling, &c. 

21* 



248 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

tude, as sometimes not even to touch the ground, but to be borne 
aloft by the concourse round him : some following close upon 
him with loud acclamations, others leaping with exultation and 
raising their hands to heaven; others aoain throwing garlands 
and fillets^ at the man — as soon as he was able to approach, 
inquired. What this tumultuous assemblage of people was doing? 
and, What had happened ? The man replied, " I have gained 
the ^qctory, Diogenes ! over the runners in the Stadium." 

2. " What is the nature of this victory ?" said he. " Your 
understanding, I presume, has acquired not even the slenderest 
improvements from your superiority of speed over your compe- 
titors ; nor are you become more temperate and continent than 
before ; nor less timorous, nor less a prey to melancholy : nor, 
peradventure, will you live henceforward with more moderate 
desires, or under greater freedom from uneasiness and vexation 
of spirit." 

3. " Be that as it may," the man rejoins, "I excel all the other 
Greeks in the svaftness of my feet." — "But," said Diogenes, 
"you are not swifter than the hares, nor the stags; and yet these 
creatures, though the swiftest of all others, are at the same tim.e 
the most timorous, afraid both of men, and birds of prey, and 
of dogs ; so as to lead a life of uninterrupted misery. 

4. " Indeed you must be aware, are you not, that speed is 
in reality a symptom of timidity? for the most timid anim.als 
are also invariably the sv\4ftest. In conformity with this dis- 
pensation of nature, Hercules was slower of foot than most 
men ; and, from liis consequent inability of laying hold on his 
antagonists by speed, was accustomed to carry a bow and 
arrows, and thus arrest a flying adversary with his Aveapons." 

5. " Yes," said the man : " but the poet tells us, how Achil- 
les,! the swift-footed, was a warrior likewise of incomparable 
fortitude." " And whence," replied Diogenes, " can we infer 
the celerity of Achilles? for we find him incapable of overtaking 
Hector,+ after a pursuit of an entire day. However, are you 
not ashamed of priding yourself on that property, in which you 
must acknov/ledge your inferiority to the meanest animals? Nay, 
I suppose, that 3'ou would not be able to outstrip even ^fox in 
speed. But, after all, at what a distance did you leave your 
competitors behind ?" 

6. "A very small distance, Diogenes! and this verycircum 
stance makes my victory so admirably glorious." " It seems, 

* Fillet, a l>and to tie up the hair. 

t The bravest of the Greeks in the Trojan war. 

t The son of Priam, king of Troy, and a valiant hero. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 247 

then," said Diogenes, '""that your triumph and felicity depended 
on a single step." — "No wonder: we were all the fleetest run- 
ners imag-inable." — "By how great an interval do you think a 
lark would have gone over the Stadium before 3'ou all ?" " But 
they have ^vings, and fly." "Well!" replied Diogenes : "if 
swiftness then be a proof of excellence, it were better to be a 
lark than a man : so that our commiseration for larks and lap- 
wings, because they were m.etamorphosed* from meninto birds, 
as mythologists inform us, is unseasonable and unnecessary." 

7. "But I," said the victorious racer, "who am a man myself, 
am the swiftest of mankind." "Yes !" replied Diogenes : "and 
is it not probable, that among ants, also, one is swifter than 
another? Yet are the ants objects of admiration to their fellows 
on that account ? Or would you not think it a laughable absurd- 
ity in any man to admire an ant for his speed ? Suppose again, 
that all your competitors had been lame, would you have prided 
yourself, as on some masterly achievement, for outstripping the 
lame, when you were not lame like the rest ?" 

8. By such conversation as this, he produced in many of his 
hearers a suprem^e contempt for the boasted accomplishment in 
question : and the man too departed, under no little mortifica- 
tion and humiliation, from this interview with Diogenes. Nor 
Avas the philosopher of little service to society in this respect, 
by reducing to a smaller compass and assuaging the tumors of 
a senseless infatuation, as sv/ellings on the body subside from 
scarification and puncture, whenever he saw any man inflated 
with a frivolous conceit of unsubstantial excellence, and carried 
beyond the limits of sober sentim.ent by qualities utterly desti- 
tute of intrinsic Vv'^orth. 



, LESSON CXXL 

Diversity in the Human Character. — Pope. 

1. Virtuous and vicious every man must be, 
Few in th' extreme, but ail in the degree ; 
The rogue and fool, by fits are fair and wise, 
And e'en the best, by iits what they despise. 
'Tis but by part we follow good or ill. 
For, Vice or Virtue, Self directs it still ; 
Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal;* 
But Heaven's great viev/ is one, — and that the whole. 

* Pro7-;ounccd Met-a-mor-fus'd, changed. 

\ Goal, the end which a person aims to reach or accomplish. 



248 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

2. That counterworks each folly and caprice , 
That disappomts th' effect of ev'ry vice ; 

That happy frailties to all ranks apply' d — 
Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, 
Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief, 
To kin^s presumption, and to crowds belief. 
That Virtue's end from vanity can raise, 
"Which seeks no interest, no reward but praise ; 
And builds on wants, and on defects of mind, 
The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. 

3. Heaven, forming each on other to depend, 
A master, or a servant, or a friend. 

Bids each on other for assistance call. 

Till one man's weakness groAvs the strength of all. 

Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 

The common int'rest, or endear the tie. 

To those w^e owe true friendship, love sincere, 

Each homefelt joy that life inherits here ; 

Yet from the same, we learn, in its decline, 

Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to resign. 

Taught, half by reason, half by mere decay, 

To welcome death, and calmly pass away. 

4. What'er the passion, knowledge, fame or pelf, 
Not one would change his neighbor with himself. 
The learn'd is happy, nature to explore. 

The fool is happy that he knows no more ; 

The rich is happy in the plenty given. 

The poor contents him with the care of heaven : 

See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing. 

The sot a hero, lunatic a king ; 

The starving chimistin his golden viev/s 

Supremely blest, the poet in his muse. 

5. See some strange comfort ev'ry state attend, 
And pride, bestow'd on all, a common friend ; 
See some iit passion ev'ry age supply, 

Hope travels through, nor quits us v/hen we die. ^ 

6. Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, \ 
Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw ; \ 
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, "^ 
A little louder, but as empty quite ; 

Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage. 
And cards and counters are the toys of age: 
Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before ; 
Till tir'd he. slef'ps, and life'srpoo^ play is o'er. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. %^ 

7. Meanwhile opinion gilds, with varying rays, 
Those painted clouds that beautify our days ; 
Each want of happiness by hope supply' d, 
And each vacuity of sense by pride. 
These build as fast as knowledge can destroy : 
In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy : 
One prospect lost, another still we gain, 
And not a vanity is given in vain : 
E'en mean self-love becomes, by force divine, 
The scale to measure others' wants by thine. 
See ! and confess, one comfort still must rise ; 
'Tis this : Though man's a fool, yet God is wise. 



LESSON CXXIL 

On the Pursuits of Marikind. — Pope. 

1. Honor and shame from no condition rise ; 
Act well your part — there all the honor lies. 
Fortune in men has some small difference made ; 
One flaunts in rags — one flutters in brocade ;* 
The cobbler apron' d, and the parson gown'd ; 
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 

" What differ more," you cr}^, " than crown and cowl ?t'* 
I'll tell you friend — a wise man and a fool. 
You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk. 
Or, cobbler like, the parson v/ill be drunk, 
Worth makes the m.an, and want of it the fellow : 
The rest is all but leather or prunella. 

2. Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race. 
In quiet flov\^ from Lucrece to Lucrece : 

But by your father's worth if your's you rate, 

Count me those only who were good and great. 

Go ! if your ancient, but ignoble blood. 

Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood : 

Go ! and pretend your family is young, 

Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. 

What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards; 

Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards. 

3. Look next on greatness — say where greatness lies ? 
" Where, but among the heroes and the wise ?" 

* Brocade, a silk stuif variegated with gold and silver. 
f Cowl, a hood worn by a monk- 



250 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed, 

From Macedonia's madman* to the Swede :t 

Tlie whole strange purpose of their Hves, to find, 

Or make an enemy of all mankind ! 

Not one looks backward ; onward still he goes ; 

Yet ne'er looks forward, farther than his nose. 

No less alike the politic and wise ; 

All sly slow things with circmnspective eyes. 

Men in their loose, unguarded Iiours they take, 

Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. 

4. But grant that those can conquer; these can cheat; 
'Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great. 

Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, 
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 
Who noble ends by noble means obtains. 
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains ; 
Like good Aureliust let him reign, or bleed 
Like Socrates — that man is great indeed. 

5. What's fame ? a fanci'd life in other's breath, 
A thing beyond us, e'en before our death. 

All fame is foreign, but of true desert, 

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart; 

One self-approving hourw^hole years outweighs 

Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas : 

And more true joy, Marcellusjl exil'd, feels, 

Than Cesar, with a Senate at his heels, 

6. In parts superior what advantage lies ? 
Tell, (for you can,) what is it to be wise ? 
'Tis but to know how little can be known ; 
To see all others' faults, and feel our own ; 
Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge, 
Without a second or without a judge. 

Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land ? 
All fear, none aid you, and few understand. 
Painful pre-eminence ! yourself to view 
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too. 

7. Bring then these blessings to a strict account ; 
Make fair deductions, see to what they 'mount ; 

* Alexander the Great. 

t Charles XII. king of Sweden, born A. D. 1682. His whole reign was 
one continued scene of warfare. He was killed at the siege of Fredericks- 
hall, in Norway, December, 1718. 

t A Roman emperor in A. D. 161. 

y Marcellus, an eminent Roman, banished by Julius Cesar to Asia, an** 
recalled by Augustus Cesar. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOH. 251 

How much, of other, each is sure to cost ; 
How each, for other, oft is wholly lost; 
How inconsistent greater goods with these; 
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease : 
Think. And if still such things thy envy call, 
Say, would'st thou be the m.an to whom they fall? 

S. To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly, 
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy. 
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life ? 
Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife. 
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon* shin'd ; 
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind. 
Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name, 
See Cromwellt damn'd to everlasting fame. 
If all, united, thy ambition call. 
From ancient story, learn to scorn them all. 



LESSON CXXIII. 

The Road to Happiness open to all Jfe?i.— Pope. 

1. Oh Happiness ! our being's end and aim ! 
Good, pleasure, ease, content ! Whate'er thy name ; 
That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, 
For which wc bear to live, or dare to die : 

Which still so near us,, yet beyond us lies, 
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise ; 
Plant of celestial seed,if dropt below, 
Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow ? 

2. Fair op'ning to som.e courts propitious shine. 
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine 1 
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurel yield, 
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? 

"Where grows ? v/here grows it not ? if vain our toil, 
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil. 

* Francis Bacon, an Etigiish philosopher and statesman, was born 1561, 
and died l{)2fi. He was one of the greatest geniuses that any age or country- 
has produced. He laid down those principies upon which JN'ewton demon- 
strated the whole law of nature. He was chosen lord high chaiicellor of 
En^jland, but was legally convicted of bribery and corruption, and accused 
of the most gross and profligate flattery. He spent the last years of his life 
in study and retirement. 

t Oliver Croinwell, a celebrated English general, was born 1599 He 
fissumed the title of " Protector of the commonwealth of England," 1653. 
He admirustered the af?iiirs of the kingdom, for iive years, with great vigor 
&nd abiiiiy, and died 1653. 



253 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere ; 

'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where ; 

'Tis never to be bought, but always free ; 

And, fled from monarchs, Saint John !* dwells with thee. 

3. Ask of the learn'd the way ? The learn'd are blind ; 
This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind ; 

Some place the bliss in action, some in ease ; 
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these ; 
Some sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain ; 
Some swell'd to gods, confess e'en virtue vain ; 
Or indolent, to each extreme they fall. 
To trust in every thing, or doubt of all. 

4. Who thus define it, say they more or less 
Than this, — that happiness is happiness ? 
Take nature's path, and mad opinions leave ; 
All states can reach it, and all heads conceive : 
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell ; 
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well ; 
And mourn our various portions as we please, 
Equal is common sense, and common ease. 
Remember, man, " the universal cause 

Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws ;" 
And makes what happiness w^e justly call, 
Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 



LESSON CXXIY. 

Providence Vindicated in the Present State of Man. — Pope. 

1. Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate. 
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state ; 
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know ; 
Or who could sufier being here below ? 
— The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day. 
Had he thy reason, v/ould he skip and play ? 
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food, 
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. 

♦ Henry Saint John, Lord Viscount Bolingbroke, a great politician and 
philosopher, was born, 1672. at Battersea, four miles west of London. As a 
writer, Lord Bolingbroke was nervous, elegant, and argumentative, but in 
his writings he is too often sceptical, and disregards the great truths of rcve- 
tation and of Christianity. He was an intimate friend of Pope, and it was 
by his persuasion that the Essay on Man was begun and finished. He died 
at Battersea, 1751. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

% Oh blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, 
That each may fill the circle mark'd by H<^''' 'n; 
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall ; 
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, 
And now a bubble burst, and now a world. 

3, Hope humbly then, with trembling pinions soar ; 
Waif the great teacher death ; and God adore. 
What future bliss he gives not thee to know, 

But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 
Hope springs eternal in the human breast : 
Man never is, but always to be blest. 
The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home, 
Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 

4. Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutorM mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
His soul proud science never taught to stray 
Far as the Solar Walk or Milky Way ; 

Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n. 
Behind the cloud-topt hill, a humbler heav'n ; 
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd, 
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste ; 
Where slaves once more their native land behold, 
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. 

5, To he, contents his natural desire ; 
He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire ; 
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company. 

— Go, wiser thou ! and in thy scale of sense, 
Weigh thy opinion against Providence ; 
Call imperfection what thou fanciest such ; 
Say here he gives too little, there too much — 

6. In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies ; 
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. 
Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes ; 

Men would be angels, angels Avould be gods. 
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell, 
Aspiring to be angels, men rebel : 
And who but wishes to invert the laws 
Of ORDER, sins against th' eternal cause. 
22 



254 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON CXXV. 
The Nature of True Eloquence. — D. Webster. 

1. When public bodies are to be addressed on momentoua 
occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions 
excited, nothing is valuable in speech, farther than it is con- 
nected Avith high intellectual and moral endowment!. Clear- 
ness, force, and earnestness, are the qualities which produce 
conviction. 

2. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It 
cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for 
it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be mar- 
shalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist 
in the man, — in the subject, — and in tlie occasion. 

3. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of decla- 
mation, all may aspire after it; they cannot reach it. It comes, 
if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, 
or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, origi- 
nal, native force. 

4. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and 
studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when 
their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and 
their countiy, hang on the decision of the hour. 

5. Then, words have lost their povver, rhetoric is vain, and 
all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then 
feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher quali- 
ties. Then, patriotism is eloquent ; then, self-devotion ib 
eloquent. 

6. The clear conception, out-nmniiig the deductions of logic, 
the high purpose, the firm resolve,the dauntless spirit, speaking 
on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, 
and urging the whole man onv/ard, right onward, to his object 
— this, this is eloquence; or, rather, it is something greater and 
higher than all eloquence, — it is action, noble, sublime, godlike 
action. 



LESSON CXXVI. 

Hie Perfect Orator. — Sheridan. 

1. Imagine to yourselves a Demosthenes,* addressmg the 
most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon 

♦ Pronounced De-mos'-the-nees, the famous Grecian orator. He was 
born at Athens 381 B. C Though neglected by his guardians, and imped- 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 255 

the fate of the most illustrious of nations depended — How awful 
such a meeting I lio^v vast the subject ! — Is man possessed of 
talents adequate to the great occasion? — Adequate! Yes, su- 
perior. 

2. Bi^ the power of his eloquence, the augustness of the 
assenibly is lost in the dignity of the orator : and the importance 
of the subject, for a v/hile, superseded by the admiration of his 
talents. 

3. With Vi^hat strength of argument, with what powers of the 
fancy, with what emotions of the heart, does he assault and sab- 
jugate the whole man ; and, at once, captivate his reason, his 

imagination, and his passions ! To eifect this, must be the 

utmost effort of the most improved state of human nature. 

4. Not a faculty that he possesses, is here unemployed ; not 
a faculty that he possesses, but is here exerted to its highest 
pitch. All his internal povrers are at work ; all his external, 
testify their energies. 

5. Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the pas- 
sions, arc all busy : without, every muscle, every nerve is exert- 
ed ; not a feature, not a limb, but speaks. The organs of the 
body, attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kindred 
organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate those energies 
fron soul to soul. 

6. Jiotwithstanding the diversity of minds in such a multi- 
tude ; by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one 
mass — the whole assembly, actuated in one and the same way, 
become, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice — ^The 
universal ciy is — Let us march against Philip,* — let ua 

FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES LET US CONQUER, OR DIE ! 



LESSON CXXVII. 

Rolla's Address to the Peruvians. — Sheridan. 

1. My brave associates, partners of my toil, my feelings, and 
my fame ! Can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous energies 

ec3 in his education by weakness of lungs and an inarticulate pronunciation, — 
his assiduit^^ overcame all obstacles, and enabled him to become the most 
'illustrious and eloquent orator of antiquity. The abilities of Demosthenes 
raised him to t!ie head of the government in Athens. He roused his coun- 
trymen from their indolence, and incited them to oppose the encroachments 
of Philip, king of Macedon, and his son, Alexander the Great. Antipater, 
the successor of Alexander, den::anded all the Athenian orators to be deliv- 
ered up to him, — and Demosthenes, soeing no hope of safety, decoyed 
himself by poison, B.C. 322. 
* Philipj Id sag of Macedon, father of Alexander the Grftat, 



256 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

which inspire your hearts ? No — you have judged as / have, 
the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders 
would delude you. — Your generous spirit has compared, as 
mine has, the motives, which in a war like this, can animate 
their minds, and ours. 

2. They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for 
plunder, and extended rule — we, for our country, our altars, 
and our homes. — They follow an adventurer whom they /ear, 
and obey a power which they hate — we serve a monarch whom 
we love — a God whom we adore. 

3. Whenever they move in anger, desolation tracks their 
progress ! Whenever they pause in amity, affliction mourns 
^eir friendship ! They boast they come but to improve our 
?tate, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error! 

^es — they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are 
themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. 

4. They offer us their protection — Yes, such protection as 
fultures give to lambs — covering and devouring them ! They 
?all on us to barter all of good we have inherited and proved 
for the desperate chance of something better, which they pro- 
mise. Be our plain ansv\^er this : — 

5. The throne we honor, is the people'' s choice — the laws we 
reverence are our brave father's legacy — the faith we follow 
teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die 
in hopes of bliss beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this ; 
snd tell them too, we seek no change ; and least of all, such 
change as they would bring us. 



LESSON CXXVIII. 

The Hermit. — Beattie. 

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, 

And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove ; 
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, 

And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove ; 
'Twas thus by the cave of the mountain afar. 

While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit* began 
No more with himself or vv^ith nature at war. 

He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man. 

♦ Hermit, a person who retires from society and lives in solitude. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 257 

2. " Ah ! why, all abandon'd to darkness and wo ; 

Why lone Philomela,* that languishing fall ? 
For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, 

And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthral. 
But if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay. 
Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn ; 
O soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass away ; 

Full quickly they pass — but they never return. 

3. " Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, 

The moon half extinguish'd her crescent displays : 
But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high 

She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. 
Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue 

The path that conducts thee to splendor again : 
But man's faded glory what change shall renew ! 

Ah fool ! to exult in a glory so vain ! 

4. " 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more : 

I mourn, but ye v/oodlands, 1 mourn not for you ; 
For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, 

Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. 
Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn ; 

Kind nature the embryo blossom will save : 
But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn ! 

O when shall day dawn on the night of the grave ! 

5. " 'Twas thus by the glare of false science betray'd, 

That leads to bewilder ; and dazzles to blind ; 
My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade. 

Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. 
O pity, Great Father of light, then I cry'd, 

Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee J 
Lo ! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride : 

From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free. 

C. " And darkness and doubt are now flying away ; 
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn ; 
So breaks on the traveller, faint and astray. 

The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. 
See trutli, love, and mercy, in triumph descending, 

And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ! 
On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, 
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb." 
* ;''iii'!"-niP'-!a. n, nv'T!iti>i'x;!.]e. 



268 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON CXXIX. 

The Mariner''s Dream. — Dimond. 

1. In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay, 

His hammoc* swimg loose at the spor^i of the wind ; 
But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, 
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. 

2. He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, 

And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn ; 

While memory each scene gayly covered with flowers, 

And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 

3. Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide, 

And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise ; — 
Now far, far behind him, the green waters glide. 
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. 

4. The jessaminf clambers in flowers o'er the thatch. 

And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall; 
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch, 
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 

5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight ; 

His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear ; 
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite 

With the lips of the maid, whom his bosom holds dear 

6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, 

Joy quickens his pulses, his hardships seem o'er : 
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest — 
" O God ! thou hast blessed me ; I ask for no more." 

7. Ah ! whence is that flame wliich now bursts on his eye ? 

Ah ! what is that sound which now larum.s his ear? 
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky ! 
'Tis the crushing of thunders, the groan of the sphere! 

8. He springs from his hammoc— ^he flies to the deck — 

Amazement confronts him with images dire — 
Wild winds and mad waves drive tlie vessel awreck — 
The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire ! 

9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell : 

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ; 

* Hammoc, a kind of hanging bed, suspended by hooks, on board, sbipa. 
t Jessamin, a plant beoring beautiful flowers. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 259 

Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, 
And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave ! 

10. O sailor boy ! wo to thy dream of delight ! 

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. 
Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright, 
Thy parents' lond pressure and love's honied kiss. 

11.0 sailor boy ! sailor boy ! never again 

Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay ; 
Unblessed, and unhonored, dov/n deep in the main 
Full many a score fathom., thy frame shall decay. 

12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee. 

Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge ; 
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, 
And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge ! 

13. On a bed of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid ; 

Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow ; 
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, 
And every part suit to thy m.ansion below. 

14. Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away, 

And still the vast waters above thee shall roll ; 
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye : — 
O sailor boy ! sailor boy ! peace to thy soul ! 



LESSON CXXX. 

Verses supposed to be written hij Alexander Selkirk, during his 
solitary abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez* — Cowper. 

1. I AM monarch of all I survey, 

My right there is none to dispute ; 
From the centre, all round to the sea, 

I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 
O solitude ! where are the charms. 

That sages have seen in thy face ? 
Better dwell in the midst of alarms. 

Than reign in this horrible place. 

* The island of Juan Fernandez lies to the west of South America, about 
three hundred miles from the coast of Chili. Alexander Selkirk, a saaman, 
a native of Scotland, was put ashore by his captain, and left in this solitary 
place, where he lived several years. This gave rise to the celebrated ro- 
mance of Robinson Crusoe, 



260 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

2. I am out of humanity's reacfi, 

I must finish my journey alone ; 
Never hear the sweet music of speech ; 

I start at the sound of my own. 
The beasts that roam over the plain, 

My form with indifference see : 
They are so unacquainted with man, 

Their tameness is shocking to me. 

3. Society, friendship, and love, 

Divinely bestowed upon man. 
Oh had I the wings of a dove, 

How soon would I taste you again ! 
My sorrows I then might assuage 

In the ways of rehgion and truth; 
Might learn from the wisdom of age, 

And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. 

4. Religion ! what treasure untold 

Resides in that heavenly word ! 
More precious than silver or gold. 

Or all that this earth can aifoid. 
But the sound of the church-going bell 

These valleys and rocks never heard ; 
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell, 

Ol- smiled when a sabbath appear'd. 

5. Ye winds that liave made me your sport, 

Convey to this desolate shore. 
Some cordial endearing report 

Of a land I shall visit no more. 
My friends, do they now and then send 

A wish or a thought after me ? 
O tell me I yet have a friend, 

Though a friend I am never to see. 

6. How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 

Compar'd with the speed of its flight, 
The tempest itself lags behind, 

And the swift-wing'd arrows of light. 
When I think of my own native land, 

In a moment I seem to be there ; 
But, alas ! recollection at hand 

Soon hurries me back to despair. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 26' 

7. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, 

The beast is laid down in his lair ;* 
Even here is a season of rest, 

And I to my cabin repair 
There's mercy in every place ; 

And mercy — encouraging thought, 
Gives even affliction a grace. 

And reconciles man to his lot. 



LESSON CXXXI. 

The Hermit. — Parnell. 

1. Far in a wild, unknown to public view, 
From youth to age a rev'rend hermit grew. 
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, 
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well : 
Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days, 
Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. 

2. A life so sacred, such serene repose, 
Seem'd heaven itself, till one suggestion rose : 
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey ; 
Thus sprung some doubt of Providence's sway. 
His hopes no more a certain prospect boast. 
And all the tenor of his soul is lost. 

3. So, when a smooth expanse receives, imprest 
Calm nature's image on its wat'ry breast, 

Down bend the banks ; the trees, depending, grow ; 
And skies, beneath, with answ'ring colors glow : 
But if a stone the gentle sea divide. 
Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry side ; 
And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun. 
Banks, trees and skies in thick disorder run. 

4. To clear this doubt ; to know the world by sight ; 
To find if books or swain^j report it right ; 

(For yet by swains alone the world he knew, 
Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew,) 
He quits his cell ; the pilgrim staff he bore. 
And fix'd the scallopf in his hat before ; 
Then, with the sun a rising journey went. 
Sedate to think, and watching each event. 

* Laiv, the bed or couch of a wild beast. 

t Scallop, a shell, carried by pilgrims in their hat, with which they dipped 
water to quench their thirst when travelling. 



•262 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

5. The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, 
And long and lonesome was the wild to pass : 
But when the southern sun had warm'd the day, 
A youth came posting o'er the crossing way; 
His raiment decent, his complexion fair, 
And soft, in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. 

0. Then near approachirg, "Father, hail !" he cry'd: 
" And hail ! my son," the rev'rend sire reply'd : 
Words follow'd words ; from question answer flow'd ; 
And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road ; 
Till, each with other pleas'd, and loth to part, 
While in their age they diifer, join in heart. 
Thus stands an aged elm in iiy bound ; 
Thus youthfulivy clasps an elm around. 

7. Novv- sunk the sun; the closing hour of day 
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray ; 
Nature, in silence, bid the Vv^orld repose ; 
When, near the road, a stately palace rose : 

There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, 
Whose verdure crovv^i'd their sloping sides of grass. 

8. It chanced the noble master of the dome 

Still made his house the "wand'ring stranger's home : 
Yet still, the kindness, from a thirst of praise, 
Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease. 
The pair arrive ; the liv'ry'd servants Avait, 
Their lord receives them at the pompous gate ; 
A table groans with costly piles of food ; 
And all is more than hospitably good. 
Then, led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, 
Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. 

9. At length 'tis morn ; and at the dawn of day, 
Along the v/ide canals the zephyrs* play; 

Fresh o'er the gay parterres,! the breezes creep, 
And shake the neighb'ring wood, to banish sleep. 
Up rise tlie guests obedient to the call ; 
An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall ; 
Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd. 
Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste. 

10. Then, pleas'd and thankful, from the porch they go: 
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe ; 

His cup was vanish'd ; for in secret guise, * 

The younger guest purloin'dj the glitt'ring prize. 



♦ Acahn soft. wind. + A flower bed. t Purloin, to steal. 



*« 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 263 

As one who sees n, serpent in his way, 
Glist'ning and basking in the summer ray, 
Disorder'd stops to shun' the danger near, 
Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear ; 
So seem'd the sire, when, far upon the road. 
The shining spoil his wily partner show'd. 

11. He stopt with silence, walk'd with trembling heart. 
And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part : 
Murm'ring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard. 

That gen'rous actions meet a base reward. 
While thus they pass the sun his glory shro\ids : 
The changing skies hang out their sable clouds : ^^ 
A sound in air presag'd approaching rain, *^P 

And beasts to covert scud across the plain, 

12. Warn'd by the signs the wand'ring pair retreat. 
To seek for shelter in a neighb'ring seat, 

'Twas built with turrets on a rising gi'ound ; 
And strong and large, and unimprov'd around : 
Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe, 
Unkind and griping, caus'd a desert there. 

13. As near the miser's heavy doors they drew, 
Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew ; 

The nimble lightning, mix'd with showers began, 
And o'er their heads loud rolling thunder ran. 
Here long they knock ; but knock or call in vain. 
Driven by the wind, and batter'd by the rain. 

14. At length som.e pity warm'd the master's breast: 
('Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest ;) 
Slow creaking turns the door, with jealous care, 

And half he welcomes in the shiv'ring pair. 
One frugal faggot lights the naked walls. 
And nature's fervor through their limbs recalls ; 
Bread of the coarsest sort, vidth meagre wine, 
(Each hardly granted,) serv'd them both to dine ; 
And when the tempest first appear'd to cease, 
A ready warning bid them part in peace. 

15. With still remark, the pond'ring hermit view'd, 
In one so rich, a life so poor and rude : 

" And why should such," within himself he cry'd, 
** Lpck the lost wealth, a thousand want beside ?" 
But what new marks of wonder soon took place, 
In every settling feature of his face, 
'^hen from his vest, the young companion bore 
That cup, the gen'rous landlord own'd before, 



264 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

And paid profusely Avith the precious bowl, 
The stinted kindness of his churlish soul ! 

16. But, now the clouds in airy tumult fly ; 
The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky ; 

A fresher green the smelling leaves display, 
And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the day : 
The weather courts them from the poor retreat ; 
And the glad master bolts the wary gate. 

17. While hence they Avalk, the pilgrim's bosom v/rought 
With all the travail of uncertain thought. 

His partner's acts without their cause appear — 
'Tw:as there a vice, and seem'd a madness here. 
Detesting that, and pitying this, he ^oes, 
Lost and confounded with the various shows. 

18. Now night's dim shades again involve the sky- 
Again the wanderers want a place to lie — 

Again they search, and find a lodging nigh — - 
The soil improv'd around — the mansion neat — 
And neither poorly low, nor idly great : 
It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind- 
Content, and not for praise, but virtue, kind. 
Hither the walkers turn with weary feet ; 
Then bless the mansion, and the master greet ; 
Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise, 
The courteous master hears, and thus replies. 

19. " Without a vain, without a grudging heart. 
To him who gives us all, I yield a part : 

From him you come, from him accept it here — 
A frank and sober, more than costly cheer." 
He spoke ; and bade the welcome table spread ; 
Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed ; 
When the grave household round his hall repair, 
Warn'd by the bell, and close the hours with prayer. 

20. At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, 
Was strong for toil ; the dappled morn arose ; 
Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept 

Near the clos'd cradle where an infant slept, 
And writh'd* his neck ; the landlord's little pride — 
O strange return ! — grew black, and gasp'd. and died. 
Horror of horrors ! what ! his only son ! ^ni^ 

How look'd our hermit when the deed was done ! ' 

Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part. 
And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. 



* Writhe^ to twist with violence. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. tim 

2i. Coiifus'd, and struck with silence at the deed. 
He flies ; but trembUng, fails to fly with speed. 
His steps the youth pursues. The country lay 
Perplex'd with roads ; a servant show'd the way., 
A river crossM the path. The passage o'er 
Was nice to find ; the servant trod before ; 
Long arms of oak an open bridge supply 'd, 
And the deep v/aves, beneath the bending, glide. 
The youth, who seem'd to v»^atch a time to sin, 
Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust hirn in : 
Plunging, he falls ; and rising, lifts his head ; 
Then flashing, turns, and sinks among the dead. 

22. Wild sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes ; 
He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, 

'' Detested wretch !" -But scarce his speech began, ,. :' 

When the strange partner seem'd no longer man ; ''?i 

His youthful face grew more serenely sweet, 
His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet ; 
Pair rounds of radiant points invest his hai\v 
Celestial odors breathe through purpled air ; « ^,^- 

And wings, whose colors glitter'd on the day^ ^^.'^■ 
Wide at his back, their "gradual plumes display*"**^ 
The form ethereal bursts upon his sight. 
And moves in all the majesty of light. 

23. Though loud, at first, the pilgrims passion greWj^^ 
Sudden he gaz'd, and wist* not what to do ; 
Surprise in secret chains, his words suspends, 

And, in a calm, his settled temper ends. 
But silence here, the beauteous angel broke : 
The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke : 

24. " Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life, to vice unknown. 
In sweet memorial rise before the throne : 

These charms success in our bright region find, 
And force an angel down to calm thy mind* 
For this cornmission'd, I forsook the sky ; 
Nay, cease to kneel, thy fellow servant I. 

25. " Then know the truth of government divine, 
And let these scruples be no longer thine. 

The Maker justly claims that world he made ; 

In this the right pf providence is laid's 

[ts sacred majesty, through all, depends * 

On using second means to work his ends. 

* Wistj knew. 
23 



266 NATIONAL PUECEPTOK. 

'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from Iiuman eye, 
The Power exerts his attributes on high; 
Your actions uses, nor controls your will, 
And bids the doubting sons of men be still. 

26. "What strange events can strike with more surprise, 
Than those which lately struck thy wond'ring eyes ? 

Yet taught by these, confess the Almighty just, 
And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust. 

27. " The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food, 
Whose life was too luxurious to be good ; 

Who made his ivory stand with goblets shine, 
And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine ; 
Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, 
Yet still he welcomes, but with less of cost. 

28. " The mean suspicious Avretch, whose bolted door 
i.# iie'er moved in pity to the wand'ring poor ; 

With him I left the cup, to teach his mind, 
That heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. 
Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, 
And feels compassion touch his churlish soul. 
Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, 
With heaping coals of fire upon its head : 
In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow. 
And loose from dross, the silver runs below. 

29. " Long had our pious friend in virtue trod. 
But now the child half wean'd his heart from God ; 
(Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, 

And measur'd back his eteps to earth again. 
To what excesses had his doto.ge run 1 
But God, to save the father, tock the son. 
To all, but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, 
And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow. 
The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, 
Now owns, in tears, the punishment was just. 

30. " But how had all his fortune felt a wreck, 
Had that false servant sped in safety back ! 
This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal. 
And what a fund o f charity would fail ! 

Thus heaven instructs thy mind. This trial o'er, 
Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more." 

31. On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew 
The sage stood wond'ring as the seraph flew. 
Thus look'd Elisha, when to mount on high, 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 267 

His master took the chariot of the sky:* 
The fiery pomp, ascending, left the view ; 
The prophet gaz'd and wish'd to follow too. 
The bending hermit here a prayer begun : 
"Lord, as in heaven, on earth thy will be done." 
Then, gladly turning, sought his ancient place, 
And pass'd a life of piety and peace. 



LESSON CXXXII. 
Character of William .Pitt,\ Earl of Chatham. — Anonymous. 

1. The secretary stood alone. Modern degeneracy had not 
reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of 
his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind 
overawed majesty ; and one of his sovereigns thought majesty 
so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him, 
in order to be relieved from his superiority. No state chicanery 
— no narrow system of vicious politics — no idle contest for 
ministerial victories, sunk him to the vulgar level of the great — 
but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his object was 
England ; his amMtion was fame. 

2. Without dividing, he destroyed party ; without corrupt- 
ing, he made a venal age unanimous. France sunk beneath 
him. With one hand he smote the house of Bourhon, and 
wielded, in the other, the democracy of England.. The sight 
of his mind was infinite ; and his schemes were to affect, not 
England — not the present age only — but Europe and posteri- 
ty. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were 
accomphshed — always seasonable — always adequate — the sug- 
gestions of an understanding, animated by ardor, and enlight- 
ened by prophecy. 

3. The ordinary feelings which made life amiable and indo- 
lent — those sensations which soften, allure, and vulgarize, were 
unknown to him. No domestic difficulties — no domestic wealt'- 
ness, reached him — but aloof from the sordid occurrences of 
life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into 
our system to counsel and to decide. 

4. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, so author- 
itative, astonished a corrupt age, and the Treasury trembled at 
the name of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Corrup- 

* See '2d Icings, chap. ii. 

t William Pitt, an illustrious English statesman, born in 1708, and died 
177S, aged 70. 



268 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

tion imagined, indeed, that she had found defects in this states- 
man, and talked much of the inconsistency of his glory, and 
much o^i\\Qruin of his victories — but the history of his coun- 
try, and the calamities of the enemy, answered, and refuted her. 

5. Nor were his political abilities his only talents. His 
eloquence was an era in the Senate, peculiar and spontaneous, 
familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments and instructive wis- 
dom; not like the torrenl of Demosthenes, or the splendid con- 
flagration of Tully, it resembled sometiir.es the thunder, and 
sometimes the music of the spheres. Like Murray,* he did 
not conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety of 
argumentation; nor was he, likeTownsend, for ever on the rack 
Qi exertion-, but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached 
the i)oint by the flashings of his mind, Vvdiich,'^like those of his 
eye, -were felt, but could not he foUoiced. 

6. Upon the whole, there was in this man somethiiisr that 
could create, subvert, or reform — an understanding — a^spirit 
and an eloquence to summon mankind to society, or to break 
the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wilderness of free 
minds with unbounded authority ; something that could estab- 
lish or overwhelm empires, and strike a blow in the world that 
should resound through the universe. 



LESSON CXXXIII. 

Character of the Puritans. — Edixburgk Review. 

1. The Pmitansf were men whose minds had derived a 
peculiar character from the daily contemplation of superior 
beings and eternal interests. Not content v>'ith acknowledging, 
in general terms, an overruling Providence, they habitually as- 

* William Murray, Earl of Mansfield, was born at Perth, in Scotland, 
1705. He was an oninent lawyer, and celebrated for integrity, wisdom, and 
discernment. He died 1793. 

f Puritans, the first settlers of New-England, They were dissenters from 
lire established church, and obtained the name of Puritans, from tlie supe- 
rior purity and simplicity of the modes of worship to which they adhered. 
Being persecuted in England, a small number removed to Leyden, in Hol- 
land. After residing several years in that city, they resolved to leave it, 
and seek an asylum in the \Yilderness of America, where they ir.iirht wor- 
ship God agreeably to the dictates of their own consciences. On the 22d 
of December, 1620, they landed on a dc^solate coast, where they immedi- 
ately erected huts, and called the place Plymouth. Their number n mount- 
ed to 101. They suffered incredible hardships from the inclemency of the 
season, want of provisions, and suitable dwellings, and during Vi\e wintei 
one half of their number perished. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 269 

cribed every event to the v/ill of the Great Being, for whose 
power nothmg was too vast, for whose inspection nothing was 
too minute. To know him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was 
with them the great end of existence. 

3. They rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage 
which other sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. 
Instead of catching occasional ghmpses of the Deity through 
an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the intolerable 
brightness, and to commune with him face to face. Hence 
originated their contempt for terrestrial distinctions. 

3. The difference between the greatest and meanest of man- 
kind seemed to vanish, when compared with the boundless in- 
terval which separated the whole race from him on whom their 
own eyes were constantly fixed. They recognized no title to 
superiority but his favor ; and, confident of that favor, they 
despised all the accomplishments and all the dignities of the 
world. If they w^ere unacquainted with the v/orks of philoso- 
phers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. 

4. If their names were not found in the registers of heralds, 
they felt assured that they were recorded in the Book of Life. 
If their steps were not accompanied by a splendid train of 
menials, legions of ministering angels had charge over them. 
Their palaces were houses not made with hands ; their diadems 
crowns of glory which should never fade away ! 

5. On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, they 
looked down with contempt; for they esteemed themselves ricn 
in a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more sublime 
language, — nobles by the right of an earlier creation, — and, 
priests by the imposition of a mightier hand. 

6. The very meanest of them was a being to whose fate a 
mysterious and terrible importance belonged — on whose slight- 
est action the spirits of light and darkness looked with Rvr-'j-^^ 
interest, Avho had been destined, before heaven and earth were 
created, to enjoy a felicity Avhich should continue v/hen heaven 
and earth should have passed away. Events which short-sight- 
ed politicians ascribed to earthly causes, had been ordained on 
his account. 

7. For his sake empires had risen, and flourished, and decay- 
ed. For his sake the Almighty had proclaimed his will by the 
pen of the evangelist, and the harp of the prophet. He had 
been rescued by no common deliverer from the grasp of no 
common foe. He had been ransomed by the sweat of no vulvar 
agony, by the blood of no earthly sacrifice. It was for him. that 
the sun had been darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that 



2W NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

the dead had arisen, that all nature had shuddered at the suffer- 
ings of her expiring God !* 

8. Thus the Puritan was made up of two different men; the 
one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion; the other 
proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He prostrated himiself in 
the dust before his Maker ; but he set his foot on the neck of 
his king. In his devotional retirement, he prayed with convul- 
sions, and groans and tears. He was half maddened by glori- 
ous or terrible illusions. He heard the lyres of angels or the 
tempting whispers of fiends. He caught a gleam of the beatiiic 
vision, or woke screaming from dreams of everlasting fire. 

9. Like Vane,t he thought himself intrusted ^^ith the sceptre 
of the millennial year. Like Fleetwood,^ he cried in the bitter- 
ness of his soul that God had hid his face from him. But, when 
he took his seat in the council, or girt on his svv^ord for v/ar, 
these tempestous workings of the soul had left no perceptible 
trace behind them. People w^ho saw nothing of the godly but 
their uncouth visages, and heard nothing from them but their 
groans and their hymns, might laugh at them. But those had 
little reason to laugh who encountered them in the liall of de- 
bate, or in the field of battle. 

10. The Puritans brought to civil and military aftairs, a cool- 
ness of judgment, and an immutability of purpose, which some 
writers have thought inconsistent with their religious zeal, but 
w^hich were in fact the necessary effects of it. The intensity of 
their feelings on one subject made them tranquil on every other 
One overpowering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and 
hatred, ambition and fear. Death had lost its terrors, and 
pleasure its charms. 

1 L They had their smiles and their tears, their raptures and 
their sorrows, but not for the things of this world. Enthusiasm 
had made them stoics, had cleared their minds from every vul- 
gar passion and prejudice, and raised them above the influence 
of danger and of corruption. It sometimes might lead them 
to pursue unwise ends, but never to choose unwise means. 

12. We acknowledge that the tone of their minds w^as often 
injured by straining after things too high for mortal reach : And 
we know that, in spite of their hatred of poj:>ery, they too often 

* See St. Matthew, chap, xxvii. 45 — 55. 

t Sir Henry Vane, an English statesman, and a political and theological 
writer, was beheaded on a ciiarge of treason, in 1602. 

t "William Fleetwood, an Eru^lish bishoo, was born in London. 1656, and 
died 1723. . 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 271 

fell into the vices of that had system, intolerance and extrava- 
gant austerity. Yet, when ail circumstances are taken into 
consideration, we do not hesitate to pronounce them a brave, 
a wise, an honest, and an useful body. 



LESSON CXXXIV. 
Character of Washington.* — Phillips. 

L No matter v/hat may be the birth-place of such a man as 
Washington. No climate can claim, no country can appro- 
priate him — the boon of Providence to the human race — his 
fame is eternity, — his residence creation. Though it was the 
defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost 
bless the convulsion in which he had his origin : if the heavens 
thundered and the earth rocked, yet, wlien the storm passed, 
how pure was the climate that it cleared — How bright in the 
brow of the firmament was the planet it revealed to us! In the 
production of Washington, it does really appear as if nature was 
exideavoring to improve upon herself, and that all the virtue? of 
the ancient world were but so many studies preparatory to the 
patriot of the new. 

2. Individual instances, no doubt, there were ; splendid ex- 
emplifications of some single qualification — C<f sarf was miCrciful 
— Scipiof was continent,— HannibalJ was patient, — but it was 
reserved for Washington to blend them all in one, and like the 
lovely master-piece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit in one glow 
of associated beauty, the pride of every model, and the perfec- 
tion of every master. 

* George Washington, the comman-ler of the American army in the war 
of the revolution, and the first president of the United States, was the son 
of Augustine Washington, of Virginia. He was born Febru_ary 22d, 1732. 
At the age of 19, he was appointed an Adjutant-General of Virginia, with 
the rank of Major, and during the French and Indian wars which imme- 
diately followed, he was activel}^ engaged in defending the frontiers of his 
native state. In 1775, when the United Colonies determined to resist the 
British claims, Washington was unanimously appointed to the command of 
the American army. He accepted the office with great diffidence, and de- 
cVmci^ any pecunianj compensation for his services, desiring only that his 
expenses should be defrayed by the public. He immediately entered upon 
his duties, and during the whole of the revolutionary war and the establish- 
ing of the independence of the United States, under the most distressing 
and discouraging circum,stances, he manifested the most determined resolu- 
tion, fortitude, and intrepidity. He was the first president, chosen in 1789, 
which office he held eight years. He died December llth, 1799, universal- 
ly honored, esteemed, and beloved. 

t A Roman General. t A Carthaginian General. 



2?2 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. As a General, he marshalled the peasant into a veteran, 
and supplied by discipline the absence of experience. As a 
statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the most 
comprehensive system of general advantage; and such was the 
^nsdom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, that 
to the soldier and the statesman, he almost added the character 
of the sage. 

4. A conqueror, he vras untainted with the crime of blood — 
a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of treason ; for ag- 
gression commenced the contest, and a country called him to 
the command — liberty unsheathed his sword — necessity stained, 
victory returned it. If he had paused here, history might doubt 
what station to assign him ; whether at the head of her citizens 
or her soldiers — her heroes or her patriots. But the last glorious 
act crowned his career, and banishes hesitation. Who, like 
Washington, after having freed a country, resigned her crown, 
and retired to a cottage rather than reign in a capitol ! 

5. Immortal man ! He took from the battle its crime, and 
from the conquest its chains — he left the victorious the glory of 
his self-denial, and turned upon the vanquished only the retri- 
bution of his mercy. Happy, proud America ! The lightnings 
of heaven yielded to your philosophy !* — The temptations of 
earth could not seduce your patriotism ! 



LESSON CXXXV. 

Stanzas addressed to the Greeks. — Anonymous. 

I.On, on, to the just aud glorious strife! 

With your sv>^ords your freedom shielding : 
Nay, resign, if it must be so, even life : 
But die, at least, unyielding. 

2. On to the strife ! for 'twere far more meet 

To sink with the foes who bay you, 
Than crouch, like dogs, at your tyrants' feet, 
And smile on the swords that slay you. 

3. Shall the pagan slaves be masters, then. 

Of the land which your fathers gave you ? 
. Shall the Infidel lord it o'er Christian men, 

When your own good swords may save you ? 
* Alluding to Dr. Franklin's discoveries in electricitj', — particularly the 
invention of lightning rods. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 273 

4. No ! let him feel that their arms are strong-,— - 

That their courage will fail them never, — 
Who strike to repay long years of wrong, 
And bury past shame for ever. 

5. Let him know there are hearts, however bowed 

By the chains which he threw around them, 
That will rise, like a spirit from pall and shroud. 
And cry " wo 1" to the slaves who bound them. 

6. Let him learn how weak is a tyrSfff s might 

Against liberty's sword contending ; 
And find how the sons of Greece can fight,^ 
Their freedom and land defending. 

7. Then on ! then on, to the glorious strife ! 

With your swords your country shielding ; 
And resign, if it must be so, even life ; 
But die, at least, unyielding. 

8. Strike ! for the sires who left you free ! 

Strike ! for their sakes who bore you ! 
Strike ! for your homes and liberty. 
And the heaven you worship o'er you \ 



LESSON CXXXVI. 
Song- of the Greeks, 1822. — Campbell. 

I. Again to the battle, Achaians ! 

Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance ; 
Our land, — the first garden of Liberty's tree ; 
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free ; 

For the cross of our faith is replanted. 

The pale dying crescent is daunted, 
kvA we march that the foot-prmts of Mahomet's* slaves 
May be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves 

Their sp'irits are hovering o'er us, 

And the sword shall to glory restore us. 

2, Ah ! what though no succor advances, 
Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances 

* Mah-o-mnt, a celebrated impostor, born at Mecca. A. D. 57), and died 
A. D. 032. 



274 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Are stretched in our aid ? — Be the combat our own ! 

And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone : 
For we've sworn, by our country's assaulters, 
By the virgins they've dragged from our altars, 

By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, 

By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins, 
That living, we will be victorious. 
Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious. 

3. A breath of submission we breathe not : 

The sword that we've drawn we will sheathe not ; 
Its scabbardg^ left where our martyrs are laid, 
And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. 

Earth may hide — waves ingulph — fire consume us. 

But they shall not to slavery doom us : 
If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves : — 
But w^e've smote them already with fire on the loaveSi 

And new triumphs on land are before us. 

To the charge ! — Heaven's banner is o'er us. 

4. This day — shall ye blush for its story ? 

Or brighten your lives with its glory ? — 
Our women — Oh, say, shall they shriek in despair. 
Or embrace us from conquest, with wreaths in their hair ? 

Accursed may his memory blacken, 

If a coward there be that would slacken, 
Till we've trampled the turban, and showm ourselves worth 
Being sprung from, and named for, tlie godlike of earth. 

Strike home ! — and the world shall revere us 

As heroes descended from heroes. 

5. Old Greece lightens up with emotion 

Her inlands, her isles of the ocean : 
Fanes* rebuilt, and fair towns, shall with jubilee ring. 
And the Ninef shall new-hallov/ their Helicon's spring. 
Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness. 
That were cold and extinguished in sadness ; 
Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white weaving arm^ 
Singing- joy to the brave that delivered their charms. 
When the blood of yon Mussulman cra^'^ens 
Shall have crimsoned the beaks of our ravens. 



* Fane, a temple. t The Nine Muses. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 273 

LESSON CXXXVII. 

Wt'.rreTi's* Address to the American Soldiers, hefore the Battle 
of Bunkefs Hill. — Pierpont. 

L Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves ! 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 
"Will ye look for greener graves ? / 

Hope ye mercy still ? 
What's the mercy despots feel ! 
Hear it in that battle peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it — ye who will. # 

2. Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? 
Will you to your homes retire ? 
Look behind you ! they're afire ! 

And, before yon, see 
Who have done it ! — From the vale 
On they come ! — and will ye quail ? 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

3. In the God of battles trust ! 

Die we may — and die we must : — 
But, O, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 
As where heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head. 

Of his deeds to tell? 



LESSON CXXXYIIL 

address to the Patriots of the Revolution. — From D. Web" 
sterns Speech, delivered at the laying- of the Corner Stone of 

the Bunker Hill Monument. June 17th, 1825. 

1. Venerable Men ! you have come down to us, from a 
former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out 
yovr lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are 
aow where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your 
orot.hers, and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife 
for your country. 

* J "seph Warren, a Major-General in the American army, killed at the 
oattlo of Bunker's Kill. June 17th, 1775. 



2?6 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. Beliold how altered ! The same heavens are indeed over 
your heads ; the same ocean roils at 3'om' feet; but all else, how 
changed ! You hear nov/ no roar of hostile cannon, you see 
no mixed volumes of smoke and fiam.e rising from burning 
Chariestown ;* 

3. The ground strewed with the dead and the dying ; the 
impetuous charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud 
call to repeated assault; the summoning of all that is meanly to 
repeated resistance ; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly 
bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be in war 
and death ; — all thes^ you have witnessed, but you witness them 
no more. All is peace. 

4. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, 
which you then saw filled with wives and children and country- 
men in distress and terror, and looking with unutterable emo- 
tions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day 
with the sight of its whole happy popu.lation, come out to wel- 
come and greet you with an universal jubilee. 

5. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position appropriately 
lying at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling 
around it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your country's 
ovvm means of distinction and defence. All is peace ; and God 
has granted you this sight of your country's happiness, ere you 
slumber in the grave for ever. 

6. He has allowed ;/ ou to behold and to partake the reward 
cf your patriotic toils ; and he has allowed us, your sons and 
countrymen, to meet you here, and, in the name of the present 
generation, in the name of your country, in tiie name of liberty, 
to thank you ! 

7. But, alas ! you are not all here ! Time and the sword have 
thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, 
Pomeroy, Bridge ! our eyes seek for you in vain amidst this 
broken band. You are gathered to your fathers, and live only 
to your country in her grateful remembrance, and your own 
bright example. 

8. But let us not too much grieve, that you have met the com- 
mon fate of men. You lived, at least long enough to know that 
your work had been nobly and successfully accomplished. You 
lived to see your country's independence established, and to 
eheathe your sw^ords from war. On the light of Liberty you 
saw arise the light of Peace, and the sky, on which you closed 
your eyes, was cloudless. 

* The British burnt Chariestown, on their way to the buttle of Bunker 'a 
Hill, June 17th, 1775. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 277 

LESSON CXXXIX. 

Specimen of th^ Eloquence of James Otis .-'^ extracted from 
..:bels.^' — Miss Francis, 

1. Engi ■\ND «iay as well dam up the waters of the Nile, v/ith 
bulrushes, . • k fetter \he Atep of freedom, more proud and firm 
in this youtl a luiid, than > here she treads the sequestered glens 
of Scotland, or couch<:s ht;rself among the magnificent m.oun- 
tains of Switzejland. A,r.bilrary principles, hke those, against 
which we no\ contend, have cost one kingf of England his 
life, another! Li,> crown — and they may yet cost a thirdij his 
most flourishing colonies. ,, 

2. We are two p-illions — one fifth fighting men. We are 
bold and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation 
from whom we art ^ >roud to derive our origin, we ever v/ere, 
and we ever will bt., ready to yield unforced assistance ; but it 
must not, and it never can ,be 'extorted. 

3. Some have sneeimg'y a.-ked,^'Are the Americans too poor 
to pay a few pounds on starapsd paper ?" No ! America, thanks 
to God and herself, is rich. - Eut tlie right to take ten pounds 
implies the right to take a thousand ; and what must be the 
wealth that avarice, aided by pov\^er, cannot exhaust ? True, the 
spectre is now small ; but the shadow he casts before him, is 
huge enough to darken all Miis fair Idad. 

4. Others, in sentimenta!" s' le. taU., .>^ the immense debt oi 
gratitude, which we owe to F?.' ' v 1 what is the amount 
of this debt ? Why, truly, it if t ^he young lion ov/es 
to the dam, udiich has brong' he solitude of the 
mountain, or left it amid the wi ^ : ' of the desert. 

5. We plunged into the v*^a\ ., , ,,^ u . at chartei^ of free- 
dom incur teeth, because the h .otandtorthv/ere behind us. 
We have waked this new world )m its savai^e lethargy ; for- 
ests have been prostrated in our th ; tOAvni' and cities have 
grov/n up suddenly as the flowers c Jv^ ' ronicf and the fires in 
our autumnal woods are scarcely n . .■. ■ m the increase 
of our wealth and population. 

6. And do we owe ail this to the kiiii succ f the mother 
country ? No ! we owe it to the tyrani v.- tluit : •, < us from her 
— to the pelting storms, which invigori • ss infancy. 

* James Otis, a lawyer of Massachusetts, — a . ' • • "■ the rights 

)f the American colonies. 

t Charles I. He was beheaded in 1649. 

t James II. He ab^Iicated the throne, and fled ^, where 

he died in 1701. 

II George III. He died in 1820, havmg reigned 6v years. 
24 



2t8 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

7. But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money from your 
gratitude, — we only demand that you should pay your own 
expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity? 
Why, the King — (and with all due reverence to his sacred 
majesty, he understands the real wants of his distant subjects, 
as little as he does the language of the Choctaws.)* Who is 
to judge concerning the frequency of these demands ? The 
ministry. Who is to judge whether the money is properly 
expended ? The cabinet behind the throne. 

8. In every instance, those who take, are to judge for those 
who pay ; if this system is suffered to go into operation, we 
shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, that rain and 
dew do not depend upon parliament ; otherwise they would 
soon be taxed and dried. 

0. But thanks to God, there is freedom enough left upon 
earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty 
is extinguished in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing 
embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. 
Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist unto death. 

10. But v/e will not countenance anarchy and misrule. The 
wrongs, that a desperate community have heaped upon their 
enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be 
well for some proud men to rem.ember, that a fire is lighted in 
these colonies, which one breath of their king may kindle into 
such fury that the blood of all England cannot extinguish it 



LESSON CXL. 

On Conciliation with America.^EDMV^B BuRKE.f 

1. For that service, for all service, whether of revenue, trade, 
or empire, my trust is in her interest in the British Constitution 
My hold of the colonies is in the close affection which grows 
from common names, from kindred blood, from similar privi- 
leges, and equal protection. These are ties, which, though 
light as air, are as strong as links of iron. 

2. Let the colonies always keep the idea of their civil rights 
associated with your government ; they will cling and grapple 
to you ; and no force under heaven will be of power to tear 

* Choctaws, a tribe of Indians inhabiting the southern part of the United 
States. 

+ Edmund Burke, a celebrated orator and rtatesman, born in tlie county 
of Cork, Ireland, in 1730. He became a n' erof the British Parliameni- 
in 1765, and died in 1797 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 279 

them from their allegiance. But let it once be understood, that 
your government may be one thing, and their pivileges another; 
that these two things may exist without any mutual relation : 
the cement is gone; the cohesion is loosened; and ev^ery thing 
hastens to decay and dissolution. 

3. As long as you have the wisdom to keep the sovereign 
authority of this country as the sanctuary of liberty, the sacred 
temple consecrated to our common faith, wherever the chosen 
race and sons of England worship freedom, they will turn their 
faces towards you. The more they multiply, the more friends 
you will have. The more ardently they love liberty, the more 
perfect will be their obedience. 

4. Slavery they can have any where. It is a weed that grows 
in every soil. They may have it from Spain, they may have it 
from Prussia. But until you becom.e lost to all feehngs of your 
true interest and your national dignity, freedom they can "have 
from none but you. This is the commodity of price, of which 
you have the monopoly. 

5. This is the true act of navigation, which binds to you the 
commerce of the colonies, and through them secures to you the 
wealth of the world. Deny them this participation of freedom, 
and you break that sole bond, Avhich originally made, and must 
still preserve the unity of the empire. 

6. Do not entertain so weak an imagination, as that your 
registers and your bonds, your affidavits and your sufferances, 
your cockets* and your clearances, are what form the great 
securities of your commerce. Do not dream that your letters 
of office, and your instructions, and your suspending clauses, 
are the things that hold together the great contexture of this 
mysterious whole. 

7. These things do not make your government, dead instru- 
ments, passive tools as they are ; it is the spirit of the English 
constitution that gives all their life and efficacy to ihem. It is 
the spirit of the English constitution, which, infused through the 
mighty mass, pervades, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivifies, every 
part of the empire, even down to the minutest mem.ber. 

8. Is it not the same virtue which does every thing for us 
here in England ? Do you imagine then, that it is the land tax 
which raises your revenue ? that it is the annual vote in the 
committee of supply, which gives you your army ? or that it is 
the mutiny bill which inspires it Avith bravery and discipline ; 

* Cocket, a roll of parchment, sealed and delivered by the officers of the 
custom-house to merchants, as a warrant that their merchandise is entered 



280 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

9. No ! surely no ! It is the love of the people — it is their 
attachment to their government from thf. Feii,38 of the deep stake 
they. have in such a -glorious institutio-i, which gl^^es you your 
army and your navy, and infuses into both that lioeral obedi- 
ence, without v/hich your army would be a base rabble, and 
your navy nothing but rotten timber. 

10. All this, I know v*^eil enougli. will sound wild and 
chimerical to tlie profane herd of those vulgar and mechanical 
politicians, who have no place among us ; a son of people who 
think that nothing exists but whiit is gross and material ; and 
who therefore, far from being qualified to 'be directors of the 
great movement of empire, are not lit to turn a wheel in the 
machine. 

11. But to men truly initiated and rightly taught, these ruling 
and m.aster principles, which, in the ppinioii of such m.en as I 
have mentioned, have no substantial eA;istenr e, are in truth every 
thing, and all in all. Magnsninnty in politics is not seldom 
the truest wisdom ; and a gr. at emjpire and little minds go ill 
together. If we are conscious of (fiiir situation, and glow with 
zeal to fill our place as becomes •kirsi-.hon and ourselves, we 
ought to auspicate all our ], ubli .-oc^'iMiings on Am.erica, with 
the old warning of the church, ' ,.rsum cor da I* We ought to 
elevate our minds to the greatx|ess of that trust to which the 
order of Providence has (rallod/us. 

12. By adverting to the digAi'.y of this high calling, our an- 
cestors have turned a savage ^.-/ilderness into a glorious empire; 
and have made the most extensive, lud the only honorable con- 
quests ; not by destroying . :t by promoting, the wealth, the 
number, the happine.--, of v un.^n race. Let us get an Amer- 
ican revenue as we ba^ e ^ui -^m Amierican empire. English 
privileges have made it a]] that ' is ; English privileges alone 
will make it all tha* it c.'^ bf , 



I.r:SSON CXLI. 

Speech on the Q-..^: :t^ ■,• of War with England, — Patrick 
Ienry. 

1. This, Sir, is i.t.- time i' >y ceremony. The question before 
the house is one of awful moment to this country. For my 
ovv^n part, I consid d- i t a ' >thing less than a question of freed om 
or slavery. Ani in pi. ' jrtion to the magnitude of the subjec* 
ought to be the freedo; /of the debate. It is only in this way 
* Sii'^'iir corda, raise om* souls. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 281 

that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfil the great responsi- 
bility v/hich we hold to God and our country. Should I keep 
back my opinio"- . tliir ime, through fear of giving offence, J 
should cons ■ ; . =* U as guilty of treason towards my country, 

and of an act of disloyalty towards the majesty of Heaven, 
which I rever tibove all earthly kings. 

2. Mr. Pres, lent, it is p.atural to man to indulge in the illu- 
sions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful 
truth — and listen to the song of that syren, till she transforms 
us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great 
and arduous str^iggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the 
number of those, who, Piaving eyes, see not, and having ears, 
hear not, the things which so nearly concern their tem.poral 
salvation ? For rr'V' pa-t,' v.hatever anguish of spirit it may 
cost, I am willing t.' know the whole truth; to know the worst, 
and to provide foi -i. 

3. I have but on. Unip by which my feet are guided ; and 
that is the lamp of evpeiience. I know of no way of judging 
of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish 
to know what there hap been in the conduct of the British min- 
istry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which 
gentlemen have beenple.r-;edtc soLice themselves and the house? 
Es it that insidious smile i J., v :;{ ]i our petition has been lately 
received ? Trust it not, m; ; it \ ill prove a snare to your feet. 
Suffer not yourselves t ; be betin ved with a kiss. Ask your- 
selves how this gracious receptioi . u' petition comports with 
those warlike preparation ■■ s urhi . ' • our waters, and darken 
our land. 

4. Are tieets and armies neces,^ary to a work of love and 
reconciliation? Have we shoAvn ourselves so unwilling to be 
reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love ? 
Let us not deceive ourselves, si i\ These are the implements of 
war and subjugation — the lav arguments ) which kings resort. 
I ask, sir, what means this Diartial array, ^f its purpose be not 
to force us to submission? ^ an oenleiuon assign any other 
possible motive for it? Has Gren^ B 't;v • any enemy in this 
quarter of the world, to call fc nulation of navies 
and armies ? No, sir, she has are meant for us : 
they can be meant for no olhe ^ent over to bind 
and rivet upon us those chains, a ' ' ;: i' • sh ministry have 
been so long forging. 

5. And what have we to opp - Shall we try 
argument? Sir, we have been tryi >. the last ten years. 
Have vre anv thing new to offer l .. tne subject? Nothing 



2^32 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

We hare held the subject up in every hght of which it is capa- 
ble ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty 
and humble supplication ? What terms^ shall we find, which 
have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, 
sir, deceive ourselves longer. 

6. Sir, we have done every thing that could be done, to avert 
the storm that is now coming on. We have petitioned — we 
have remonstrated — we have supplicated — ^we have prostrated 
ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition 
to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. 
Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have pro- 
duced additional violence and insult ; our supplications have 
been disregarded ; and we have been spurned, with contempt, 
from the foot of the throne. 

7. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope 
of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
hope. If we wish to be free — if v\^e mean to preserve inviolable 
those inestimable pri\ileges for which v.'^e have been so long 
contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble strug- 
gle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have 
pledged ourselves never to abandon, until the glorious object of 
our contest shall be obtained — we must fight! — I repeat it, sir, 
v/e must fight ! ! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts 
is all that is left us ! 

8. They tell us, sir, that v/e are weak — unable to cope with 
so formidable an adversary. /But when shall we be stronger ? 
Will it be the next week or the next year? Y/ill it be v/hen 
we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be 
stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irreso- 
lution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual 
resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and liugging the 
delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound 
us hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper 
use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our 
pov/er. 

9. Three millions of people armed in the holy cause of liber- 
ty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible 
by any force which oui enemy can send against us. Besides, 
sir, we shall not fight cur battles alone. There is a just God 
who presides over the destinies of nations: and who will raise 
up friends to fi.ght our battles for us. 

_ 10. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone : it is to the 
vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no elec- 
tion. If we were base enough to desire it, it is nov/ too late to 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 283 

retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission 
and slavery ! ■ Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be 
heard on the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable — and 
let it come ! ! I regeat it, sir, let it come ! ! ! 

1 1. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
may cry, peace, peace — but there is no peace. The war has 
actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the north 
will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our 
brethren are alrrc, y in the field! Why stand we here idle? 
What is it that gent'^men wish ? What would they have ? Is 
life so drar, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of 
chains ai:d slrivery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! — I knoAV not 
what coui othei*s may take ; but as for me, give me liberty, 
or give mdv 'eath ! • 



' LESSON CXLII. 
On the Existence of a Deity. — Young. 

1. Retire — tli? world shut out — thy thoughts call home- 
Imagination's ah. w'qig repress. 

Lock up thy sen\ . Let no passion stir. 
Wake all to reaso\ Let lior reign alone. 
Then, in thy soul's 'oep silence, and the depth 
Of nature's silence, i inight, thus inquire : 
What am I ? and froi '. lience ? I nothing know 
But that I am ; and si\ . I arti, conclude 
Something eternal. Il\ -' rhei-e e'er been nought, 
Nought still had been. rnal the're-must be. 

2. But, v/hat eternal? iiv-nol human race, 
And Adam's ancestors, wi. 'in end? 
That's hard to be conceiv'o, ' ev'ry 1 'k 
Of that long chain'd successx -o fr-^il , 
Can every part depend and ri\ -lole ? 
Yet, grant it true, new diflicuK ase : 

I'm still quite out at sea, nor see the shore. 
Whence earth and these bright orbs ? Eternal too ? 
Grant matter was eternal ; still these orbs 
Would want some other father. Much design 
Is seen in all their motions, all their m.akes. 
Desiirn implies intelligence and art, 
That^ can't be from themselves — or man ; that art 
Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow ? 
And nothing greater vet a^ow'd than man. 



2^ NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

S. Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain, 
Shot through vast masses of enormous wei^^ht ? 
Who bid brute matter's restive lum^p assume 
^Sucli various forms, and gave it wings yo fly ? 
Has matter innate motion ? Then each atom, 
Asserting its indisputable right 
To dance, v/ould form an universe of dust. 
Has matter none ? — then whence these glorious forms 
And boundless flights, from shapeless and repos'd ? 
Has matter more than motion ? Has it thought, 
Judgment and genius ? Is it deeply learn'd 
In mathematics ? Has it fram'd such laws. 
Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal ? 
If art to form^, and council to conduct, 
And that with greater far than human skill, 
Reside not in each block — a Godhead reigns — 
And if a God there is — that God how great ! 



LESSON CXLIIL 

To-morrow. — Cotton. 

1. To-morrow, didst thou say? 
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow. 
Go to — I v/ill not hear of it — To-morrow ! 
'Tis a sharper, Avho stakf^s his penury 
Against thy plenty — who takes thy ready cash. 
And pays thee nought, but wishes, hopes, and promis'e? 
The currency of idiots — injurious bankrupt, 
That gulls the easy creditor ! — To-morrow ! 
It is a period no Avhere to be found 
In all the hoary registers of Time, 
Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. 

2. . Wisdom disclaims the v/ord, nor holds society 
With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 
•Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father ; 
Wrought of such stufl" as dreams are, and as baseless 
As the fantastic visions of the evening. 
But soft, my friend — arrest the present moment : 
For be assur'd they all are arrant tell-tales : 
And though their flight be silent, and their path 
Trackless, as the wing'd couriers of the air. 
They post to lieaven, and there record thy folly. 
Be'Cause, though '^tation'd on tU' important watch. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 285 

Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel, 
Didst let them pass imnotic'd, imimprov'd. 
And know, for that thou slumb'rest on the guard, 
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar 
For every fugitive : and when thou thus 
Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal 
Of hood-wink'd Justice, who shall tell thy audit? 
3. Then stay the present- instant, dear Horatio, 
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. 
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms ! far more precious 
Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. 
O ! let it not elude thy grasp ; but, like 
The good old patriarch* upon record. 
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee. 



LESSON CXLiy. ■ 
Vanity of Power and Misery of Kings. — Shakspeare. 

1 . No matter where ; of comfort no man speak : 
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs : 
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 

Let's choose executors, and talk of wills : 
And yet not so, — for what can Vve bequeath, 
Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? 
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, 
And nothing can we call our own, but death ; 
And that small model of the barren earth, 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 

2. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, 
And tell sad stories of the death of kings : — 
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war ; 
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; 
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; 
All murder' d ; — 

3. For within the hollow crown 
That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
Keeps death his court : and there the antic sits, 
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; 
Allowing him a breath, a little scene. 

To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill VAth looks ; 
Infusing ?dm with self and vain conceit, — 
* See Genesis, chap, xxxii. 24 — 30, 



2S6 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 
Were brass impregnable ; and humor'd thus. 
Comes at the last, and with a Uttle pin 
Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king ! 

4. Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, 
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty. 
For you have but mistook me all this while : 
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 
Need friends : — Subjected thus. 
How can you say to me — ^I am 



LESSON CXLV. 

Darkness. — B v r r^ ^ ' 

1. I HAD a dream, whic^^K%di4'no! , ; /'dream. 
The bright sun was extin^iishe^], — mt' the stars 
Did wander darkling in tl-e c-ernal s; /e, 
Rayless, and pathless — B:ivl\h.e icy ea th 
Swung blind and blackeii^ ig^ifi the moonless air; 
Morn came, and went — 1 eame, and brought no day, 
And men forgot their ] ons in the dread 

Of this their desolation- :5nd all h- ^rts 
Were chill'd into a self-sh prayer . /r light: 

2. And they did Ire In watr'ihres — and the thrones. 
The palaces of crov aed idng^ • e huts. 

The habitations of rll things ^'^ . h dwell. 
Were burnt for he' ■ "'^ '*ilie ^ere consumed. 
And men were ga' wnc leir blazing homes 

To look once mo /her's face ; 

Happy were tho' vithin the eye 

Of the volcanos., ... ...-.-. i mtain torch: 

A fearful hope was all the Vvarld contain'd ; 
Forests were set on firr— b^Jt hour by hour 
They fell and ili'led — and the crackling trunks 
Extinguish'd with a ciuS and all was black. 

3. The brows of men by the despairing light 
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits 

The flashes fell upon them ; some lay down 

* Lord George Gordon B3^ron, an English nobleman, distingiiished as a 
poet. He was born in London, Jan. 22d, 1788, and died at Missolonghi, in 
April, 1824, while assisting the Greeks in their glorious struggle for freedom 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 287 

And hid their eyes and wept ; and some did rest 
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled ; 
And others hurried to and fro, and fed 
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up 
With mad disquietude on the dull sky, 
The pall of a past world ; and then again 
With curses cast them doAvn upon the dust, 
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd. 

4. The wild birds shriek'd, * 
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, 

And flap their useless wings ; the wildest brutes 
Came tame and tremulous ; and vipers crawl'd 
And twin'd themselves among the multitude. 
Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food : 

5. And War, which for a moment was no more, 
Did glut himself again ; — a meal was bought 
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart 
Gorging himself in gloom : n love was left ; 

All earth was but one thought — and that was death. 

Immediate and inglorious ; ana the pang 

Of famine fed upon all entrails — men 

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh. 

6. The meagre by the meagre were devour'd ; 
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, 
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept 

The birds and beasts, and famish'd men at bay, 
Till hunger clung them., or the dropping dead 
Lured their lank jaws ; himself sought out no food, 
But with a piteous and perpetual moan 
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand 
Which answer'd not with a caress — he died. 

7. The crowd was famish'd by degrees ; but two 
Of an enorm.ous city did survive, 

And they were enemies ; tliey met beside 

The dyiiig embers of an altar-place. 

Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things 

For an unholy usage ; they raked up. 

And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands 

The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath 

Blew for a little life, and made a flame 

Which Y/as a mockery ; then they lifted up 

Their eyes as it grew lighter, and behe-ld 

Each othei-'s aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died — 

Even of their mutual hideousness they died, 



288 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Unknowing who he was upon whose brow 
Famine had written Fiend. 

8. The world was void, 
The populous and the powerful was a lump, 
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — 
A lump of death— a chaos of hard clay. 

The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still. 
And nothing stirred within tlv^ - °ilent depths; 
• Ships sailorless lay rotting oi he sen, 
And their masts fell down pi oemea* ■ " Liey dropp'd 
They slept on the abyss wit out a ^ 

9. The waves were dead , the tiuv:;. • re in their grave^, 
The moon, their mistress, hud expired 1 ifore ; 

The winds were wither'd iu the sta^'-''' . air, 
And the clouds perish' d : . ^arkncs^ no need 

Of aid from them — She v ^^ t'^^ ■-.■>■ ^q, 

I 



LE^BONC....'v.. 

HannibaP to Scipio AfricanusJat their interview preceding" 
the Battle of Zama.\ 

1. Since fate has so ordainea it, that I, who began the war, 
and who have been so often on/the point of ending it by a com- 
plete conquest, should now cc/me of my own motion, to ask a 
peace — I am glad thai it is of ycVj P'cipio, I have the fortune to 

* Hannibal, a celebrate- 1 Cartlitiiriniitii and one of the greatest generals 
of antiquity, was born 252 years E. C. - .t 9 years of age, his father, Ilaiidl- 
car, made hhu swear on the altar, eternai ennnty to Rome. At 25 years oi 
age, he took upon him the command of Vie arm}-, and having conquered the 
Roman forces in Spain, he led his army over the Pyrenees and Alps into 
Italy. Here he gained many irripoi'tant victories ; and during sixteen years 
conquered every arm}' which the Romans sent against him. At the end of 
this time, the Romans sent an army into Africa, under the command of 
Scipio, and the Carthaginians called Hannibal out of Italy to defend his own 
country ._ He was defeated by Scij»io at the battle of Zania, and was obliged 
to flee liis country. He led a wandering life at the courts of Antiochus and 
Prusias, in Asia, and at last destroyed himself by poison, vi'hen he was about 
to be delivered into the hands of the Romans, B. C. 182, aged 70. 

t The battle of Zama was fougbi. 196 years B. C. in which the Carthagi- 
nians were totally defeated,- and an end put to the second Punic War. The 
three wars betwfx n Ronit- and Carthage were called Punic Wars. The frst 
Punic War cor.imonced 26 i- yeirs B. C. and lasted 23 years. The second 
commenced 218 years B. C. and lasted 22 years. The third commenced 149 
years B. C. and lasted 3 yeaxs ; when Carthage ?/as entirely destroyed, 116 
years B. C. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 289 

ask it. Nor will this be among the least of your glories, that 
Hannibal, victorious over so many Roman Generals, submitted 
at last to you. 

2 1 could wish, that our fathers and we had confined our 
ambition within the limits which nature seems to have prescrib- 
ed to it ; the shores of Africa, and the shores of Italy. The 
gods did not give us that mind. On both sides we have been 
so eager after foreign possessions, as to put our own to the haz- 
ard of war. Rome and Carthage have had, each in her turn, 
the enemy at her gates. 

3. But since errors past m.ay be more easily blamed than 
corrected, let it now be the work of you and me, to put an end, 
if possible, to the obstinate contention. — For my own part, my 
years, and the experience I have had of the instability of fortune, 
incline me to leave nothing to her determination which reason 
can decide. But much I fear, Scipio, that your youth, your 
want of the like experience, your uninterrupted success, may 
render you averse from the thoughts of peace. 

4. He whom fortune has never failed, rarely reflects upon her 
inconstancy. Yet without recurring to former examples, my 
own may perhaps suffice to teach you moderation. I am the 
same Hannibal, who, after my victory at Cannae, became master 
of the greatest part of your country, and deliberated with myself 
what fate I should decree to Italy and Rome. 

5. And now — see the change ! Here, in Africa, I am come to 
treat with a Roman, for my own preservation and my country's. 
Such are the sports of fortune. Is she then to be trusted because 
she smiles 1 An advantageous peace is preferable to the hope of 
victory. The one is in your own power, the other at the pleas- 
ure of the gods. Should you prove victorious, it would add 
little to your own glory or the glory of your country ; ).£ van- 
quished, you lose, in one hour, all the honor and reputation you 
have been so many years acquiring. 

0. But vv^hat is my aim in all this ? That you should content 
yourself with our cession of Spain, Sicily, Sardinia, and all Isl- 
ands between Italy and Africa. A peace on these conditions 
will, in my opinion, not only secure the future tranquillity of 
Carthage, but be sufficiently glorious for you and for the Roman 
name. And do not tell me, that some of our citizens dealt 
fraudulently with you in the late treaty. — It is I, Hannibal, 
that now ask a peace : — I ask it, because I think it expedient 
for my country; and thinking it expedient, I will inviolably 
maintain it. 

25 



390 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON CXLVIL 
Scipio^s* Reply to Hannibal, 

1. I KNEW very well, Hannibal, that it was the hope of your 
return, which emboldened the Carthaginians to break the truce 
with us, and lay aside all thoughts of peace, when it was just 
upon the point of being concluded; and you' present proposal 
is a proof of it. You retrench from their concessions, every 
thing but what we are and have been long possessed of 

2. But as it is your care, that your fellow citizens should have 
the obligation to you, of being eased from a great part of their 
burden, so it ought to be mine, that they drav/ no advantage 
from their perfidiousness. Nobody is more sensible than I am 
of the weakness of man, and the pov/er of fortune, and that 
whatever we enterprise, is subject to a thousand chances. 

3. If before the Romans passed into Africa, you had, of your 
own accord, quitted Italy, and made the offers you now make, 
I believe they would not have been rejected. But, as you have 
been forced out of Italy, and we are masters here of the open 
country, the situation of things is much altered. 

4. And what is chiefly to be considered, the Carthaginians, 
by the late treaty, Avhich we entered into at their request, were, 
over and above what you offer, to have restored to us our pris- 
oners without ransom, delivered up their ships of war, paid us 
five thousand talents, and to have given hostages for the per- 
formance of all. 

5 The senate accepted these conditions, but Carthage failed 
on her part: Carthage deceived us. What then is to be done? 
Are the Carthaginians to be released from the most important 
articles of the treaty, as a reward for their breach of faith? No, 
certainly. 

6. If to the conditions before agreed upon, you had added 
some new articles, to our advantage, there would have been 
matter of reference to the Roman people ; but when, instead ot 
adding, you retrench, there is no room for deliberation. The 
Carthaginians, therefore, must submit to us at discretion, or 
must vanquish us in battle. 

* Publius Cornelias Scipio, an illustrious Roman and brave general. — 
While Hannibal was in the northern part of Italy, the Roman Senate sent 
Scipio into Africa to carry war to the gates of Carthage. He defeated the 
Carthaginians under Hannibal at the battle of Zama, and obtained the hon- 
orable surname of Afiicanus. He was afterwards treated with ingratitude 
and baseness by the Romans, and fled from the public clamors, and died in 
retirement B, C. 180. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 291 

LESSON CXLVIII. 

Cassius* instigating Brutus to join the Conspiracy against 
Cesar. — Tragedy of Julius Cesar. 

L Honor is the subject of my story — 
I cannot tell what you and other men 
Thuik of this hfe ; but for my single self, 
I had as lief not be, as live to be 
In awe of such a thing as myself. 
I was born free as Cesar ;t so were you : 
We both have fed as well ; and we can both 
Endure the winter's cold as Vt^ell as he. 

2. For once upon a raw and gusty day, 
The troubled TiberJ chafing with his shores, 
Cesar says to me, " Dar'st thou, Cassius, now 
Leap in with me into this angry flood, 

And swim to yonder point ?" — Upon the word, 

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, 

And bade him follow ; so indeed he did. 

The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it ; 

With lusty sinews throwing it aside, 

And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 

3. But ere we could arrive the point proposM, 
Cesar cry'd, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink." 

* Caius Cassius, a celebrated Roman, who was attached to the interests 
of Pompey, and when Cesar obtained the victory in the plains of Pharsalia, 
Cassius owed his life to the mercy of the conqueror. He was an artful and 
ambitious man, and was at the head of the conspiracy against Cesar. At 
the battle of Philippi, fearful of falling into the hands of his enemies, he 
caused one of his slaves to slay him with the very sword with which he had 
given wounds to Cesar, B. C. 42. 

t Caius Julius Cesar, an illustrious Roman general and historian, was 
born B. C. 98. He was famous for his learning, his ambition, his valor, and 
his tragical death. By his valor and eloquence he acquired the highest re- 
putation in the field and in the senate ; and enjoyed every magisterial and 
military honor that the republic could bestow. In 59 B. C. the government 
of the Roman Commonwealth was divided between Cesar, Crassus, and 
Pompey. Jealousies soon arose, which terminated in a civil war. Cesar 
subdued Pompey, and became master of the Commonwealth. His ambition 
became boundless — he grasped at sovereign power. But he was beloved by 
the Roman people, and they thought no honor, except that of king, too great 
to be conferred on him. In the midst of his am.bitious projects, a conspiracy 
was formed against him, headed by Cassius and Brutus, and he was assas- 
fiinated in the senate-house, B. C. 43, in the 56th year of his age. It is said 
that he conquered 300 nations, took 800 cities, and defeated 3,000,000 of 
people, 1,000,000 of which fell in battle. 

t Tiber, a river of Italy, on whose banks the city of Rouses was built. 



192 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

I, as iEneas,* our great ancestor, 

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber 

Did I the tired Cesar ; and this man 

Is now become a god ; and Cassius is 

A wretched creature, aixd must bend his body 

If Cesar carelessly but nod or him. 

4. He had a fever Avhen he was in Spain, 
And when the fit was on him, I did mark 

How he did shake ; 'tis true ; this god did shake ; 

His coward lips did from their color fly ; 

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world. 

Did lose its lustre ; I did hear him groan, 

A^^e, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 

Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 

"Alas !" it cry'd — "Give me some drink, Titinius" — 

As a sick girl. 

5. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 
A man of such a feeble temper should 

So get the start of the majestic world, 

And bear the palm alone. 

Brutus and Cesar ! — What should be in that Cesar ? 
Why should that name be sounded more than yours? 
Write them together ; yours is as fair a name : 
Sound them ; it doth become the mouth as well : 
Weigh them ; it is as heavy : conjure with 'em ; 
Brutus ^vill start a spirit as soon as Cesar. 

6. Now in the name of all the gods at once. 
Upon what meats doth this our Cesar feed. 

That he has grown so great 1 Age, thou art sham'd ; 
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods. 
When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
But it was fam'd with more than with one man ? 
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, 
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man ? 
Oh ! you and I have heard our fathers say. 
There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd 
Th' infernal devil, to keep his state in Rome, 
As easily as a king. 

* iEneas, a Trojan prince, son of Anchises and Venus. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 393 

LESSON CXLIX. 

Brutus^* Speech on the Death of Cesar. — Tragedy of Julius 
Cesar. 

1. Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers, — Hear me, for my 
cause ; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me, for mine 
honor; and have respect for mine honor, that you may believe. 
Censure me, in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you 
may the better judge. 

2. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar, 
to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cesar was no less than his, 
If then, that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cesar, this 
is my answer ; not that I loved Cesar less, but that I love Rome 
more. 

3. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die all slaves, than 
that Cesar v/ere dead, to live all freemen? As Cesar loved me, 
I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he 
was valiant, 1 honor him ; but, as he was ambitious, I slew 
him. 

4. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for 
his valor, and death for his ambition. Who's here so base, 
that he would be a bondman ? If any, speak; for him have I 
offended. 

5. YVho's here so rude, that he would not be a Roman? If 
any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that 
lie will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I 
offended. I pause for a reply. 

6. None? Then none have I offended. I have done no 
more to Cesar, than you should do to Brutus. And as I slew 
my best lover for the good of Rome, I reserve the same dag- 
ger for myself, whenever it shall please my country to need 
my death. 

* Marcus Brutus, a brave, virtuous, and honorable Roman — but a blind 
politician. He was the dupe of Cassius' flattery and art, — and vi^as instiga- 
ted by him, to join the conspiracy against Cesar, that his virtues and popii- 
larity might sanction the atrocious deed. Cesar wq.s Brutus' best and most 
intimate friend. After the assassination of Cesa^r, Brutus fled with the other 
conspirators, collected an army, was defeated at the decisive battle of Phi- 
lippi, fell upon his sword, and died B. C. 42. 

25* 



294 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON CL. 

Antonyms* Speech over the Body of Cesar. — Tragedy of 
Julius Cesar. 

1. Friends, Romans, Countrymen! — Lend me your ears. 
I come to bury Cesar, not to praise him. 

The e\-il that men do, Kves after them : 
The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
So let it be with Cesar ! 

2. Noble Brutus 

Hath told you Cesar was ambitious. 
If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 
And grievously hath Cesar answer'd it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, 
(For Brutus is an honorable man. 
So are they all, all honorable men) 
Come I to speak in Cesar's funeral • 

3. He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
But Brutus says he vvas ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 
Did this in Cesar seem ambitious ? 

4. When that the poor hath cried, Cesar hatli wept ! 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,! 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown ; 

Which he did thrice refuse : Was this ambition^ 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 

And sure he is an honorable man. 

5. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ; 
But here I am to speak what I do know. 

* Marcus Antony, a brave, ambitious, artful, and designing Roman. He 
was warmly attached to Cesar, and after bis assassination he resolved to 
seize the opportunity fur raising himself to power. He artfully procured a 
public funeral for Cesar, and took this occasion to harangue the soldiers and 
populace in his favor, — and he inflamed them so much against the conspira- 
tors, that Brutus and Cassius were obliged to leave the city. He led an 
army against the consp-rators, and defeated them at Philippi. He obtained 
a share of the Rom.an empire in the triumvirate which he formed with Au- 
gustus Cesar and Marcus Lepidus. But dissensions arising between these 
three, a civil war commenced, and Antony, defeated at the battle of Actium, 
fled to Egypt, and killed himself, B. C. 30. 

t Lupercil, a feast amor.o' tlie Romans. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 295 

You all did love him once ; not without cause : 
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? 
O judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason. Bear v/ith me : 
My heart i« in the coffin there v/ith Cesar ; 
And 1 must pause till it come back to me. 

6. But yesterday, the word of Cesar might 
Have stood against the world ! now lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 

masters ! If I were dispos'd to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong ; 
Who, you all know, are honorable men. 

I will not do them wrong — I rather choose 
To wron^ the dead, to Avrong myself and you, 
Than I will wrong such honorable men. 

7. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar ; 
I found it in his closet : His his will. 

Let but the commons hear this testament, 
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) 
And they would go and kiss dead Cesar's wounds. 
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood — 
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. 
And dying, mention it within their wills, 
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
Unto their issue. — 

8. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle : I remember 

The first time ever Cesar put it on ; 
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, 

That day he overcame the Nervii* 

Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through 

See what a rent the envious Casca made 

Through this the well beloved Brutus stabb'd ; 
And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 
Mark how the blood of Cesar follow'd it ! 

9. This, this was the unkindest cut of all. 
For when the noble Cesar saw him stab, 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms, 

Quite vanquish'd him ! Then burst his mighty heart, 
And in his mantle muffling up his face, 

* Pronounced Wer-ve-i, a warlike people of Gaul, whom Cesar attacked 
and totally defeated. 



296 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR- 

E'en at tlie base of Pompey's statue, 

(Which all the while ran blood,) great Cesar fell. 

10. O what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down ! 
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. 

O, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel 
The dint of pity ; These are gracious drops. 
Kind souls ! ^Yhat, weep you when you but behold 
. Our Cesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here ! — 
Here is himself — ^marr'd, as you see, by traitors. 

11. Good friends ! Sweet friends ! Let me not stir you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny ! 

They that have done this deed are honorable ! 
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, 
That made them do it ! They are ^vise and honorable, 
And ^^dll, no doubt, with reason answer you. 

12. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ! 
I am no orator, as Brutus is ; 

But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 
That love my friend — and that they knew full well, 
That gave me pubhc leave to speak of him ! 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth. 
Action, nor utterance, nor power of speech, 
To stir m.cn's blood. 

13. I only speak right on, 

I tell you that which you yourselves do know — 

Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 

And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus. 

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 

W'ould ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 

In every wound of Cesar, that should move 

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 



LESSON CLI. 

Othello's Apology for his 3Iarriage. — Tragedy of Othello 

1. Most potent, grave and reverend seigniors : 
My very noble and approv'd good masters : 
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 
It is most true ; true, I have married her : 
The very head and front of my offending 
Hath this extent ; no more. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 297 

2. Rude am I in speech, 
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace : 
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, 
Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd 
Their dearest action in the tented field ; 

And little of this great world can I speak. 

More than pertains to feats of broils and battle ; 

And therefore, little shall I grace my cause. 

In speaking of myself. Yet by your patience, 

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver. 

Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, 

What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 

(For such proceedings I am charg'd withal) 

I won his daughter with. 

3. Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ; 
Still question'd me the story of my life 

From year to year : the battles, sieges, fortunes, 

That I had past. 

I ran it through, e'en from my boyish days 

To the very moment that he bade me tell it. 

Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances : 

Of moving accidents by flood and field : 

Of hair breadths 'scapes in the imminent deadly breach : 

Of being taken by the insolent foe. 

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, 

And with it all my travel's history. 

4. All these to hear 

Would Desdemona seriously incline ; 
But still the house aifairs woukl draw her thence • 
Which ever as she could with haste despatch. 
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
Devour up my discourse. Which I observing, 
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means 
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart. 
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate ; 
Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 
But not distinctly. 

5. I did consent ; 

And often did beguile her of her tears. 
When I did speak of some distressful stroke 
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done. 
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs. 
She swore in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing stranjgre ; 
'Twas pitiful ; 'twas wond'rous pitiful : 



298 NATIOISAL PRECEPTOR. 

She Adsh'd she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd 
That heaven had made her such a man. 

6. She thank' d me. 

And bade me, if I had a friend that iov'd her, 
I should but teach him how to tell ray story. 
And that would woo her. On this hint I spake ; 
She Iov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd ; 
And I Iov'd her, that she did pity them. 
This is the only witchcraft which I've us'd. 



LESSON CLII. 
Soliloquy of Hamlet* on Death. Tragedy of Hamlet. 

1. To be — or not to be — that is the question. 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 

The stings and arroAvs of outrageous fortune — ■ 
Or to take arms against a sea of trouble, 
And, by opposing, end them ? To die — to sleep — 
No more ? And, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to. 

2. 'Tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wdsh'd. — To die — to sleep — 

To sleep, perchance to dream — ay, there's the rub — 
For, in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, 
"When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause. 

3. There's the respect, 
That makes calamity of so long life ; 

For, who would bear the Avhips and scorns of time, 
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely 
The pangs of despis'd love — the law's delay — 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes — 
When he himself might his quietusf make 
With a bare bodkin. 

4. Who would fardels^ bear, 
To groan and sweat under a weary life. 
But that the dread of something after death, 
(That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
No traveller returns) puzzles the will, 

* A Prince of Denmark. t (iuietus, rest, repose. 

t Fardel, a bundle, or little pack. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 299 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of? 

5. Thus conscience does make covv^ards of us all ; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
"With this regard, their currents turn awaj^, 
And lose the name of action. 



LESSON CLIII. 

Cato^s* Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul. — Tragedy 
©F Cato. 

1. It must be so — Plato, f thou reasonest well ! 
Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
This longing after immortality ? 

Or, whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 
Of falling into nought ? Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us : 
'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, 
And intimates Eternity to m.an. 

2. Eternity ! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 
Through what variety of untried being. 

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ? 
The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me : 
But shadows, clouds and darkness rest upon it. 
Here will I hold. If there's a Pov/er above us, 
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud 
Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue ; 
And that which he delights in must be happy. 
But when ? Or where ? This world was made for Cesar. 

I'm weary of conjectures this must end them. 

[Laying his hand on his sword. 

* Marcus Portias Cato, an eminent Roman, born 94 years B. C. He 
was a lover of Philosophy, and a brave general ; a man of great integrity, 
and strong attachment to his country. He boldly opposed the conspiracy of 
Catiline, and the ambition of Julius Cesar. After the battle of Pharsalia, 
Cato fled to Utica, in Africa, and being pursued by Cesar, he advised his 
friends to flee, and his son to trust to Cesar's clemency. He then retired to 
his apartment, and read Plato on the Immortality of the Soul, twice 
over ; and then stabbed himself with his sword, and died, aged 48 — B, C 
46 years. 

t A Grecian Philosopher. 



300 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

3. Thus I am doubly arm'd. My death* and Iife,t 
My bane* and antidotef are both before me. 
This* in a moment brings me to an end ; 
But thisf informs me I shall never die. 
The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles 
Al the drawn dn^ger, and denes its point. 
The stars shall fade av/ay, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years : 
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth : 
Unhurt amidst the war of elements, 
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. 



LESSON CLIV. 

Speech of Catiline% before the Roman Senate, on hearing his 
sentence of hanishment. — Croly's Catiline. 

1. "Banished from Rome !" — what's banished, but set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe? 

" Tried and convicted traitor !" — Who says this ? 

Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 

" Banished ?" — I thank you for't. It breaks my chain ! 

I held some slack allegiance till this hour — 

But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords ; 

I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 

Strong provocations, bitter, burning Avrongs, 

I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 

To leave you in your lazy dignities. 

2. But here I stand and scoff you : — here I fling 
Hatred and full defiance in your face. 

Your Consul's !| merciful. For this all thanks. 

He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. 

" Traitor !" I go— but I return. This — trial ! 

Here I devote your senate ! 1 ve had wrongs, 

To stir a fever in the blood of age, 

Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel. 

3. This day's the birth of son^ows ! — This hour's work 
Will breed proscriptions.— Look to your hearths, my lords, 
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ; — 

♦ The sword. + A book written by Plato. 

t A Roman Senator accused of a conspiracy against the govemraeiit, and 
banished. 
H Marcu!5 Tullius Cicero. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 301 

Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; 
Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night, 
.\nd Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. 



LESSON CLV. 

The Rich Man and the Poor Man. — Khemnitzer. 

L So goes the world ; — if wealthy, you may call 
This — friend, that — brother ; friends and brothers all. 
Though you are worthless — witless — never mind it; 
You may have been a stable boy — what then ? 
'Tis wealth, good Sir, makes honorable men. 
You seek respect, no doubt, and you will find it. 

2. But if you are poor, heaven help you! though your sire 
Had royal blood within him, and though you 

Possess the intellect of angels too, 
'Tis all in vain ; — the world will ne'er inquire 
On such a score : — Why should it take the pains ? 
'Tis easier to weigh purses, sure, than brains. 

3. I once saw a poor fellov.-, keen and clever, 
Witty and wise : — he paid a man a visit. 

And no one noticed him, and no one ever 

Gave him a welcome. "Strange," cried I;" whence is it T' 

He walked on this side, then on that, 

He tried to introduce a social chat ; 
Now here, now there, in vain he tried ; 
Some form.ally and freezingly replied, 

And some 
Said by their silence — " Better stay at home." 

4. A rich man burst the door, 
As Croesus* rich, I'm sure 

He couid not pride liiraself upon his wit ; 
And as for wisdom, he had none of it; 
lie had what's better ; — he had wealth. 
What a confusion ! — all stand up erect — - 

* Pronounced Crc-zus, a king of Lydia, in Asia Minor, 548 B. C^ sup- 
posed the ric!:ivst of mankind. 

26 



302 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

These crowd around to ask him of his health ; 

These bow in honest duty and respect ; 
And these arrange m sofa or a chair, 
And these conduct him there. 
" Allow me, Sir, the honor ;" — Then a bow 
Down to the earth — Is't possible to show 
Meet gratitude for such kind condescension ? 

5. The poor man hung his head, 

And to himself he said, 
" This is indeed beyond my comprehension :" 

Then looking round. 

One friendly face he found, 
And said — " Pray tell me why is wealth preferr'd 
To wisdom?" — " That's a silly question, friend !" 
Replied the other — " have you never heard, 

A man may lend his store 

Of gold or silver ore. 
But wisdom none can borrow, none can lend ?" 



LESSON CLVI. 

Address to the Ocean. — Lord Byron. 

1. There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 

There is society, where none intrudes, ^ 

By the deep Sea, and music in its roar : 
I love not Man the less, but Nature more, 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before. 
To mingle with the Universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

2. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, — roll ! 
Ten thousand fleets sv/eep over thee in vain ; 

_Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
,When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks into tliy depths with bubbling groan. 
Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 303 

3. His steps arc not upon thy paths, — thy fields 
Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise 

'"And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields 
For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, 
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, 
And send'st him shivering, in thy playful spray, 
^And howling to his gods, where haply lies 
His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
Then dashest him again to earth : — there let him lay. 

4. The arm.aments wliich thunders trike the walls 
"^Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake. 

And monarchs tremble in their capitals. 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 

/'"Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war! 
These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake, 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 

Alike the Armada's* pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.! 

5. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ! 
Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 

■^ The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 
Has dried up realms to deserts : — not so thou. 
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — 
_Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — 

Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

6. Thou, glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 

(Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Tcing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving,) — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of Eternity — the throne 
Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

* Ar-ma-da, a fleet of armed ships. The term is usually applied to the 
Spanish flep*-,, called the Invincible Armada, consisting of 130 ships, in- 
tended to act against England in 1588, in the reign of Elizabeth. 

t Cape Traf-al-gar, on the southwestern coast of Spain. Off this Cape, 
on the 21st of October, 1805, was obtained the celebrated victory of the 
British fleet, commanded by Lord Nelson, over the combined fleets of 
France and Spain. Lord Nelson lost his life in the action, aged 47 years. 



^4 NATIOIS^^L PRECEPTOR. 

7. And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my jay 
Of youth t'ul sports was on thy breast to be 
Borne, Hke thy bubbles, onward : from a boy 
I wanton' d with thy breakers — they to me 
Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea 
Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, 

-^ Eor I was as it were a child of thee, 
And trusted to thy billows far and near, 
And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 



LESSON CLVII. 
Wisdom. — PoLLOK. 

1. Wisdom is humble, said the voice of God. 
'Tis proud, the world replied. Wisdom, said God, 
Forgives, forbears, and suffers, not for fear 

Of man, but God. Wisdom revenges, said 
The world, is quick and deadly of resentment, 
Thrusts at the very shadov/ of affront, 
And hastes, by death, to wipe its honor clean. 

2. Wisdom, said God, loves enemies, entreats. 
Solicits, begs for peace. Wisdom, replied 

The world, hates enemies, will not ask peace. 
Conditions spurns, and triumphs in their fall. 
Wisdom mistrusts Ifeelf, and leans on Heaven, 
Said God. It trusts and leans upon itself, 
The world rephed. 

3. Wisdom retires, said God, 
And counts it bravery to bear reproach 
And shame, and lowly poverty, upright ; 

And weeps with all who have just cause to weep. 
Wisdom, replied the world, struts forth to gaze. 
Treads the broad stage of life v/itli clamorous foot, 
Attracts all praises, counts it bravery 
Alone to wield the sword, and rush on death ; 
And never weeps, but for its own disgrace. 

4. Wisdom, said God, is highest, when it stoops 
Lowest before the Holy Throne ; throws down 
Its crown, abased ; forgets itself, admires. 

And breathes adoring praise. There Wisdom stoops, 
Indeed, the world replied, there stoops, because , 
It must, but stoops with dignity ; and thinks 
And meditates the while of imvard worth 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 305 

LESSON CLVIII. 

The Inhumanity of Slavery. — Cowper. 

1. Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness, 
Some boundless contiguity of shade, 
Where rumor of oppression and deceit, 

Of unsuccessful or successful war, 

Might never reach me more ! My ear is pain'd, 

My soul is sick with every day's report 

Of wrong and outrage with \ik^iich earth is fiU'd. 

There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart ; 

It does not feel for man. The nat'ral bond 

Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax 

That falls asunder at the touch of Are. 

2. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
Not color'd like his own ; and having pow'r 
T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause 
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 
Lands intersected by a narrow frith 

Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd. 
Make enemies of nations, who had else. 
Like kindred drops, been mingled into one. 

3. Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys : 
And worse than all, and most to be deplor'd, 

As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
Chains him and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
With stripes, that mercy, with a bleeding heart, 
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 

4. Then what is man ! And what man seeing this, 
And having human feelings, does not blush 

And hang his head, to think himself a man ? 
I would not have a slave to till my ground. 
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd. 

5. No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
Just estimation pris'd above all price ; 

I had much rather be myself the slave. 
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
Weiliave no slaves at home — then why abroad ? 
And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave 
That parts us, are emancipate and loos'd. 

6. Slaves cannot breathe in England : if their lungs 
Receive her air, that moment they are free ; 

26* 



306 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then, 
And let it circulate tbrough ev'ry vein 
Of all your empire : that 'where Britain's power 
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. 



LESSON CLIX. 

TJie Cuckoo. — Logan. 

1. Hail, beauteous stranger of the wood. 

Attendant on the spring ! 
Now heav'n repairs thy rural seat. 
And woods thy welcome sing. 

2. Soon as the daisy decks the green, 

Thy certain voice we hear : 
Hast thou a star to guide thy path. 
Or mark the rolling year ? 

8. Delightful visitant ! with thee 
I hail the time of flow'rs. 
When heav'n is fill'd with music sweet 
Of birds among the boAv'rs. 

4. The school-boy wand'ring in the wood, 
To pull the flow'rs so gay, 
Starts, thy curious voice to hear, 
And imitates thy lay. 

3. Soon as the pea puts on the bloom, 

Thou fly'st the vocal vale. 
An annual guest in other lands, 
Another spring to hail. 

6. Sweet bird, thy bow'r is ever green, 

Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song. 
No winter in thy year ! 

7. O could I fly, I'd fly with thee ; 

We'd make, with social wing, 
Our annual "visit o'er the globe. 
Companions of the spring 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR, 307 

LESSON CLX. 

The Star of Bethlehem. — J. G. Percival. 

1. Brighter than the rising day, 

When the sun of glory shines ; 
Brighter than the diamond's ray, 

Sparkhng in Golconda's* mines ; 
Beaming through the clouds of wo, 

Smiles in Mercy's diadem 
On the guilty world below, 

The star that rose in Bethlehem. 

2. When our eyes are dimmed with tears, 

This can light them up again, 
Sweet as music to our ears, 

Faintly warbling o'er the plain. 
Never shines a ray so bright 

From the purest earthly gem ; 
O ! there is no soothing light 

Like the Star of Bethlehem. 

3. Grief's dark clouds may o'er us roll, 

Every heart may sink in wo. 
Gloomy conscience rack the soul, 

And sorrow's tears in torrents flow ; 
Still, through all these clouds and storms, 



Shines this purest heavenly gem, (yp 



With a ray that kindly warms — U^^-j^ 

The Star that rose in Bethlehem. ^ '""^^'(^ 



4. When we cross the roaring wave 

That rolls on life's remotest shore ; 
When we look into the grave. 

And wander through this world no more ; 
Thid, the lamp whose genial ray. 

Like some brightly-glowing gem, 
Points to man his darkling way — 

The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 

&. Let the world be sunk in sorrow, 
Not an eye be charmed or bless'd ; 
We can see a fair to-morrow 
Smiling in the rosy west ; 

♦ A province in HindoosLan, nov/ called Hyderabad, formerly celebrated 
for its diamond mines. 



308 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

This, her beacon, Hope displays ; 

For, in Mercy's diadem. 
Shines, \rith Faith's serenest rays, 

The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 

6. When this gloomy life is o'er. 

When we smile in bliss above, 
When, on that delightful shore, 

We enjoy the heaven of love, — 
O ! what dazzling light shall shine 

Round salvation's purest gem ! 
O ! what rays of love divine 

Gild the Star of Bethlehem! 



LESSON CLXL 

The Last Man. — Campbell. 

All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom : 

The sun itself shall die. 
Before this mortal shall assume 

Its immortality. 

2. 1 saw a vision in my sleep. 

That gave my spirit strength to s'^veep 

Adown the gulf of time ; 
I saw the last of human mould, 
That shall creation's death behold, 

As Adam saw the prime. 

3. The sun's eye had a sickly glare ; 

The earth with age was wan ; 
The skeletons of nations were 

Around that lonely man. 
Some had expir'd in fight : the brandis 
Still rested in their bony hands ; 

In plague and famine, some ; 
Earth's cities bad no sound, no tread ; 
And ships were drifting Avith their dead. 

To shores where all was dumb. 

4. Yet, prophet like, the lone one stood, 

With dauntless words and high. 
That shook the sere leaves from the wood 
As if a storm pass'd by, 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOK. 309 

Sapng, we're twins in death, proud sun, 
Thy face is cold, thy race is run, 

Mere Mercy bids thee go. 
For thou, ten thousand thousand years. 
Hast seen the tide of human tears, 

That shall no longer flow. 

5. What, though beneath thee, man put forth 

His pomp, his pride, his skill ; 
And arts that made v/ood, fire, and earth, 

The vassals of his Vvdll ; 
Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, 
Thoic dim, discrowned king of day ; 

For all those trophied arts 
And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, 
Heal'd not a passion or a pang 

Entail'd on human hearts. 

6. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall 

Upon the stage of men ; 
Nor witli thy rising beams recall 

Life's tragedy again. 
Its motley pageants bring not back, 
Nor waken flesh, upon the rack 

Of pain, anev/ to v/rithe : 
Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr'd, 
Or mown in battle by the sword. 

Like grass beneath the scyth-e. 

7 E'en I am weary, in yon skies, 

To watch thy fading fire ; 
Test of all sumless agonies. 

Behold not me expire. 
My lips that speak thy dirge of death ; 
Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath, 

To see thou shalt not boast. 
The eclipse of nature spreads my pall, 
The majesty of darkness shall 

Receive my parting ghost. 

8. This spirit shall return to him, 

That gave its heavenly spark ; 
Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim 

When tliQU thyself art dark. 
No ; it shall live again, and shine 
In bliss unhioicn to beams of thine. 



310 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

By Him recall' d to breath, 
Who captive led captivity ; 
Who robb'd the grave of victory, 

And pluck'd the sting of death. 

9. Go sun, while mercy holds me up 

On natm-e's awful waste, 
To drink this last, this bitter cup 

Of grief that man shall taste ; 
Go, tell the night that hides thy face, 
Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, 

On earth's sepulchral clod, 
The dark'ning universe defy 
To quench his immortality. 

Or shake his trust in God. 



LESSON CLXII. 

Picture of a Good Man, — Young. 

1. Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw, 
What nothing else than angel can exceed, 

A man on earth devoted to the skies ; 
Like ships at sea, while in, above the world. 
With aspect mild, and elevated eye. 
Behold him seated on a mount serene, 
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; 
All the black cares, and tumults of this life, 
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, 
Excite his pity, not impair his peace. 

2. Earth's genuine. sons, the sceptred, and the slave. 
A mingled mob ! a wand'ring herd ! he sees, 
Bewilder'd in the vale ; in all unlike ; 

His full reverse in all ! What higher praise ? 
What stronger demonstration of the ri^ht? 
The present all their care ; the future his ; 
When public welfare calls, or private Avant, 
They give to fame ; his bounty he conceals. 
Their virtues varnish nature ; his exalt. 
Mankind's esteem they court ; and he his own. 

3. Theirs the wild chase of false felicities • 
His, the composed possession of the true. 
Alike throughout is liis consistent piece, 

All of one color, and an even thread ; 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 311 

While party-color'd shreds of happiness, 
With hideous gaps between, patch np for them 
A madman's robe ; each puff of fortune blows 
Their tatters by, and shov/s their nakedness. 

4. He sees with other eyes than theirs ; where they 
Behold a sun, he spies a Deity ; 

What maltes them only smile, makes him adore. 
Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees ; 
An empire, in his balance, weighs a grain. 
They things terrestrial worship as divine : 
His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust, 
That dims his sight and shortens his survey, 
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound. 

5. Titles and honors (if they prove his fate) 
He lays aside to lind his dignity ; 

No dignity they find in aught besides. 
They triumph in externals, (which conceal 
Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipse : 
Himself too much he prizes to be proud ; 
And nothing thinks so great in man, as man. 
Too dear he holds his int'rest, to neglect 
Another's welfare, or his right invade ; 
Their int'rest, like a lion, lives on prey. 

6. They kindle at the shadow of a wrong ; 
Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on heav'n, 
Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe. 

Nought, but Avhat wounds his virtue, wounds his peace. 
A cover'd lieart their character defends ; 
A cover'd heart denies him half his praise. 

7. With nakedness his innocence agrees ! 
While tlieir broad foliage testifies their fall! 
Their no-joys end, where his ftdl feast begins : 
His joys create, their's murder, future bliss. 
To triumph in existence, his alone ; 

And his alone triumphantly to think 

His true existence is not yet begun. 

His glorious course was, yesterday, complete : 

Death, then, was welcome ; yet life still is tsweet. 

LESSON CLXm. 

Hymn on a Review of the Seasons. — Thomson. 

1. These, as they change, Almighty Father! these, 
Are but the varied God. The rolling year 



312 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring 
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. 
Wide flush the fields ; the soft'ning air is balm ; 
Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles, 
And ev'ry sense, and ev'ry heart is joy. 

2. Then comes Thy glory in the summer months, 
With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun 
Shoots full perfection thro' the swelling year ; 

And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; 

And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 

By brooks and groves, in hoUow-whisp'ring gales. 

3. Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfin'd, 
And spreads a common feast for all that live. 
In Avinter, awful Thou ! with clouds and storms 
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, 
Majestic darkness ! On the whirlwind's wing 
Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore ; 
And humblest nature with Thy northern blast. 

4. Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine. 
Deep felt, in these appear ! a simple train. 

Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, 
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd ; 
Shade unperceived, so softening into shade, 
And all so forming an harmonious whole. 
That as they still succeed, they ravish still. 

5. But wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand, 
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence 
The fair profusion tnat- o'erspreads the spring ; 
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day ; 

Feeds ev'ry creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; 
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, 
With transport touches all the springs of life. 

6. Nature, attend ! join every living soul. 
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky : 
In adoration join ! and, ardent, raise 

One general song 1 

Ye, chief,* for whom the whole creation smiles, 
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, 
Crown the great hymn ! 

7. For me, when I forget the darlinsf theme, 
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray 

* The sun. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 3i? 

Russets the plain ; inspiring autumn gleams ; 
Or winter rises in the black'ning east ; 
Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more. 
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! 

8. Should fate command me to the farthest verge 
Of the green earth, to distant barb'rous climes, 
Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun 
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
Flames on th' Atlantic Isles ; 'tis nought to me ; 
Since God is ever present, ever felt. 

In the void waste as in the city full ; 

And where we vital breathes there must be joy. 

9. When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come, 
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 

I cheerful will obey ; there, with new pow'rs, 

Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 

Where universal love not smiles around. 

Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns ; 

From seeming evil still educing good, 

And better thence again, and better still. 

In infinite progression. But 1 lose 

Myself in him, in light ineffable ! 

Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise. 



LESSON CLXIV. 
Questions and Answers. — Montgomery. 
Q. Flowers, — wherefore do ye bloom ? 
A. — We strew thy pathway to the tomb. 

Q. Stars, — wherefore do ye rise f 
A. — To light thy spirit to the skies. 

Q. Fair Moon — why dost thou wane ? 
A. — That I may wax again. 

Q. O Sun, — what makes thy beams so bright ? 
A. — The Word that said,—" Let there be light** 

Q. Planets, — what guides you in your course ? 
A* — Unseen, unfelt, unfailing force. 

Q. Nature, — ^^vhence sprang thy glorious frame ? 
A. — My Maker call'd me, and I came. 
Q. O Light, — thy subtile essence who may know ? 
A. — Ask not; for all things but myself I show. 
7 



14 NATIONAL PEECEPTOR. 

Q. Wliat is yon arch which e^^'ery where I sec ? 

A, — The sign of omnipresent Deity. 

Q. Where rests the horizon's all-embracing zone ? 

A. — Where earth, God's footstool, touches heaven,, his 

throne. 
Q. Ye cloncls, — what bring ye in your train ? 
A, — God's embassies, — storm — lightning — hail — or rain. 
Q. Winds, — whence and whither do ye blow ? 
A. — Thou must be born again to know. 
Q. Bow in tlie cloud, — what token dost thou bear ? 
A. — That Justice still cries ^^ strike" and Mercy ^^ spare.** 
Q. Dews of the morning, — wherefore were ye given ^ 
A. — To shine on earth, then rise to heaven. 
Q. Rise, glitter, break ; yet. Bubble, tell me wh)^ ? 
A. — To show the course of all beneath the sky. 
Q. Stay, Meteor, stay thy falling fire ! 
A. — No, thus shall all the host of heaven expire. 
Q. Ocean, — what law thy chainless waves confined ? 
A. — That which in Reason's limits, holds thy mind 
Q. Time, — whither dost thou flee ? 
A. — I travel to Eternity. 
Q. Eternity, — what art thou ? — say. 
A. — Time past, time present, time to come, — to-day 
Q. Ye Dead, — where can your dwelling be ? 
A. — The house for all the living ; — come and see. 
Q. O Life, — what is thy breath ? 
A. — A vapor, lost in death. 
Q. O Death, — how ends thy strife ? 
A. — ^In everlasting life. 
Q. O Grave, — where is thy victory ? 
A. — Ask him who rose acrain from mc. 



LESSON CLXV. 

On the Death of Mrs, Mason. — Mason. 

1. Take, holy earth ! all that my soul holds dear : 
Take that best gift, which heaven so lately gave 
To Bristol's fount I bore, with trembling care, 
Her faded form. She bow'd to taste the >vave. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 315 

2. And died. Does youth, does beauty read the line ? 

Does sympathetic fear their breast alarm ? 
Speak, dead Maria ! breathe a strain divine ; 

E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm. 

3. Bid them be chaste, be innocent like thee ; 

Bid them in duty's sphere, as meekly move i 
And if as fair, from vanity as free. 

As firm in friendship, and as fond in love : 

4. Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die, 

('Twas e'en to thee) yet the dread path once trod, 
Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, i < 
And bids the " pure in heart behold their Gped." 



LESSON CLXVI. 

Ode from the I9th Ps aim. -^-Abbisou, 

1 The spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue etherial sky. 
And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 
Their great original proclaim. 
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day. 
Does his Creator's power display ; 
And publishes to ev'ry land. 
The work of an Almighty hand. 

2. Soon as the evening shades prevail. 
The moon takes up the wond'rous tale. 
And, nightly, to the list'ning earth, 
Repeats the story of her birth ; 
Whilst all the stars that round her burn. 
And all the planets in their turn. 
Confirm the tidings as they roll. 

And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

3. What though, in solemn silence, all 
Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 
What though no real voice nor sound 
Amid these radiant orbs be found ? 
In reason's ear they all rejoice. 

And utter forth a glorious voice, 

Forever singing, as they shine, 

" The hand that made us is dixdne." 



316 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON CLXVII. 

Rest in Heaven, — Anonymous. 

1. Should sorrov/ o'er thy brow 

Its darken'd shadows fling. 
And hopes that cheer thee now, 

Die in their early spring ; 
Should pleasure at its birth 

Fade like the hues of even. 
Turn thou away from earth, 

There's rest for thee in Heaven. 

2. If ever life shall seem 

To thee a toXsome way, 
And gladness cease to beam 

Upon its clouded day ; 
If like the weary dove 

O'er shoreless ocean driven ; 
Raise thou thine eye above, 

There's rest for thee in Heaven. 

3. But O if thornless flowers 

Throughout thy pathway bloom, 
And gaily fleet the hours, 

Unstain'd by earthly gloom, 
Still let not every thought 

To this poor world be given, 
Nor always be forgot 

Thy better rest in Heaven. 

4. When sickness pales thy cheek, 

And dims thy lustrous eye. 
And pulses low and weak. 

Tell of a time to die ; 
Sweet hope shall whisper then — 

" Though thou from earth be riven, 
" There's bliss beyond thy ken, 

" There's rest for thee in Heaven." 



LESSON CLXVIII. 

The Star of Bethlehem,— U. K. White. 

1 When marshalled on the nightly plain, 
The glittering host bestud the sky ; 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 317 

One star alone, of all the train, 

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. 
Hark ! Hark ! to God the chorus breaks, 

From every host, from every gem ; 
But one alone the Saviour speaks, 

It is the star of Bethlekem. 

2. Once on the raging seas I rode, 

The storm was loud ; — the night was dark, 
The ocean yawned — and rudely blow'd 

The wind that toss'd my foundering bark. 
Deep horror then my vitals froze, 

Death struck, I ceased the tide to stem ; 
When suddenly a star arose, 

It was the star of Bethlehem. 

3. It was my guide, my light, my all, 

It bade my dark forebodings cease : 
And through the storm and danger's thrall, 

It led me to the port of peace. 
"Now, safely moor'd — my perils o'er, 

I'll sing, first in night's diadem, 
For ever and for ever more. 

The star, the star of Bethlehem ! 



LESSON CLXIX. 

Address to^ime. — Lord Byron. 

1. Oh Time ! the beautifier of the dead, 
Adorner of the ruin, comforter 

And only healer when the heart hath bled — 
Time ! the corrector where our judgments err, 
The test of truth, love, — sole philosopher, 
For all beside are sophists, from thy thrift, 
Which never loses tho' it doth defer — 
Time, the avenger ! unto thee I lift 
My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift. 

2. Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine 
And lemple more divinely desolate. 

Among thy mightier offerings here are mine. 
Ruins of years — tho' few — yet full of fate : — 
If thou hast ever seen me too elate, 
27* 



319 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Hear me not ; but if calmly I have borne 
Good, and reserved my pride against the hate 
Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn 
This iron in my soul in vain — shall they not mourn ? 

3. And thou, who never yet of human wrong- 
Lost the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis !* . 
Here where the ancient paid thee homage long — 
Thou, who didst call the Furiesf from the abyss, 
And round OrestesJ bade them howl and hiss 
For that unnatural retribution — just. 

Had it but been from hands less near — in this 
Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust ! 
Dost thou not hear my heart? — Awake, thou shalt and must. 

4. It is not, that I may not have incurr'd 

For my ancestral faults, or mine, the wound 
I bleed withal, and had it been conferr'd 
With a just weapon, it had flowed unbound ; 
But now my blood shall not sink in the ground ; 
To thee do I devote it — thou shalt take 
The vengeance which shall yet be sought and found, 
Which li I have not taken for the sake — 
But let that pass — / sleep.^but tJwu shalt yet awake. 

5. And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now, 
I shrink from what is suifered : let him speak 
Who hath beheld decline upon my brow, 

Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak ; 
But in this page a record will I*seek. 
Not in the air shall these my v/ords disperse, 
Tho' I be ashes ; a far hour shall wreak 
The deep prophetic fulness of this verse. 
And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse* 

6. That curse shall be forgiveness. — Have I not — 
Hear me, my mother Earth ! behold it heaven ! — 

♦ Nem'-e-sis, the goddess of justice among the Greeks and Romans, usu- 
ally represented with a pair of scales in one hand, and a whip in the other. 

t Furies, three fabulous deities, called goddesses of horror. Their office 
was to observe and punish the actions of bad men, and torment the con- 
sciences of secret offenders. 

t Orestes was the son of Agamemnon, a distinguished hero at the siege 
of Troy, who was killed, on his return to Greece, by his wife and .Slgisthus, 
her base lover. Orestes, to avenge the death of his father, slew his mother ; 
for which act he was pursued by the Furies, and euffered the most excru- 
cdatingf torments. 






NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 319 

Have I not had to wrestle with my lot ? 
Have I not suffered things to be forgiven ? 
Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven, 
Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, Life's life lied away? 
And only not to desperation driven, 
Because not altogether of such clay 
As rots into the sou^s of those whom I survey. 

7. But I have lived, and have not lived in vain : 
My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire, 
And my frame perish even in conquering pain ; 
But there is that within me which shall tire 
Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire ; 
Something unearthly, which they deem not of. 
Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre. 
Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move 

In hearts all roc]5:y now the late remorse of love. • 



LESSON CLXX. 
Absalom.* — Willis. 

1. The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung Ijw 
On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled 

Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, 

Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. 

The reeds bent down the stream : the willow leaves, 

With a soft cheek iipon the lulling tide. 

Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, 

Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse. 

Bears on its bosom, quietly gave Avay, 

And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest. 

How strikingly the course of nature tells, 

By its light heed of human suftering, 

That it was fashioned for a happier world ! 

2. King David's limbs vv^ere weary. He had fle<i 
From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood, 

With his faint people, for a little rest 
Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 
Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow 
To its refresliing breath ; for he had worn 
The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 
That he could see his people until now. 
* See 2 Samuel, clia)). xviii. 



320 . NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

They gathered round him on the fresh green bank, 
And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun 
Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, 
And bowed his head upon his hands t ) pray. 

3. Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts 
Come crowding thickly up for utterance, 

And the poor common words of courtesy 

Are such a very mockery — how much 

The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer ! 

He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up 

Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 

Whose lOve had been his shield ; and his deep tones 

Grew tremulous. But, oh ! for Absalom — 

For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 

The proud, bright being, who had burst away. 

In all his princely beauty, to defy 

The heart that cherished him — for him he poured, 

In agony that would not be controlled. 

Strong supplication, and forgave him there, 

Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. 

# # * * -* # 

4. The pall was settled. He who slept beneath, 
Was straightened for the grave ; and, as the folds 
Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed 

The matchless symmetry of Absalom. 

His hair was yet unshorn, and silken carls 

Were floating round the tassels as they swayed 

To the admitted air, as glossy nov/, 

As when, in hours of gentle dall* nee, bathing 

The snowy fingers of Jiidea's girls. 

His helm was at his feet ; his banner, soiled 

With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid 

Reversed, beside him; and the jewelled hilt. 

Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade, 

Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow. 

5. The soldiers of the king trod to and fro. 
Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief. 
The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier. 
And gazed upon tlie dark pall steadfastly. 

As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 

A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 

As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 

Of David entered, and he gave command, 

In a low tour, to his few follo-weis, 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 821 

And left him with his dead. The king stood still 
Till the last echo died : then, throwing off 
The sackloth from his brow, and laying back 
The pall from the still features of his child, 
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 
In the resistless eloquence of wo : — ''^^ 

6. " Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou should' st die I 

Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
That death should settle in thy glorious eye, 

And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! 
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 
My proud boy, Absalom ! 

7. *' Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill 

As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. 
How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, 

Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, 
And hear thy sweet ' my father^ from these dumb 
And cold lips, Absalom ! 

8. " The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush 

Of music, and the voices of the young ; 
And life will pass me in the mantling blush, 

And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; — 
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
To meet me, Absalom ! 

0. " And, oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken. 
How will its love for thee, as I depart. 

Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep tokeni 
It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom. 
To see thee, Absalom ! 

10 " And now, farewell ! 'Tis hard to give thee up, 
"With death so like a gentle slumber on thee : — 
And thy dark sin ! — Oh ! I could drink the cup, 

If from this wo its bitterness had won thee. 
May God Have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
My erring Absalom !" 

11. He covered up his face and bowed himself 
A moment on his child ; then, giving him 
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer; 



332 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

And, as a strength were given him of God, 
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
Firmly and decently, and left him there. 
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 



LESSON CLXXI. 

The Miami Mounds.* — S. L. Fairfield. 

L Wrecks of lost nations! monuments of deeds, 
Immortal once — but all forgotten now ! 
Mysterious ruins of a race unknown, 
As proud of ancestry, and pomp, and fame — 
Prouder, perchance, than those who ponder here 
O'er what their wild conjectures cannot solve ! 
Who raised these mouldering battlements ? who trod 
In jealous glory on these ruined Avails ? — 
Who reigned, who triumphed, or v/ho perished here ? 
What scenes of revelry, and mirth, and crime. 
And love, and hate, and bliss, and bale, have passed ? 
Ah ? none can tell. 

2. Oblivion's dusky folds 

Shroud all the past, and none may lift the pall ; 
Or, if they could, what would await the eye 
Of antique research, but the fleshless forms 
Of olden time : dark giant bones that tell — 
Nothing ! dim mysteries of the earth and air ! 
Since human passions met in conflict here. 
The woods of centuries have grown — and oft 
And long, the timid deer hath bounded o'er 
The sepulchre of warriors, and v/ild birds 
Sung notes of love o'er slaughter's crimson field, 
And the gaunt wolf, and catamount, and fox. 
Have made their couches in the embattled tOAvers 
Of dauntless chiefs, nor dreamt of danger there ! 

* In various parts of the Western States, numerous remains-of fortifica- 
tions, and mounds of earth, have been discovered, which have excited the 
astonishment and curiosit}^ of all who have seen them. Some of these forti- 
fications are small, while others enclose 40 or 50 acres of land. The mounds 
are built in the form of a sugar-loaf, and were undoubtedly used for burying 
places, as they are found to contain human bones. They must have been 
built at a very remote period, as trees several hundred years old are often 
seen growing upon them, and the present race of Indians have no tradition 
respecting their origin. They indicate great labor, and were evidently the 
work of a people who had made some advances in civilization, and who 
possessed considerable knowledge in the business; of fortifications. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 333 

Princes and kings — the wise, the great, the good, 
May sUimber here, and blend their honored dust 
With Freedom's soil ; and navies may have rode 
On the same vi^ave ihat bears our starry sails. 

3. Here heroes may have Ucd to whi a name 
On Glory's sunbright scroll, and prophets watched 
Their holy shrines, whose fires no longer glow. 
Sweet rose and woodbine bowers around the^e walls 
May once have bloomed, less fragrant and less fair 
Than the fond hearts that blended, and the lips 
That pressed in passion's rapture ; and these airs, 
That float unconscious by, may have been born 

Of gales, that bore Love's soft enchanting words. 
But all is silent now as Death's own halls ! 

4. Empires have perish'd where these forests tower 
In desolate array — and nations sunk. 

With all their glories, to the darkling gulf 
Of cold forgetfulness ! But what avails 
The uncertain guess, the dark and wildering search 
For those whose spirits have but passed away 
To the dark land of shadows and of dreams, 
An hour before our own ? Why in amaze 
Behold these shattered walls, when other times 
Shall hang in wondering marvel o'er our own 
Proud cities, and enquire — " Who builded these ?" 



LESSON CLXXII. 
071 Time. — H. K. White. 

1. Who needs a teacher to admonish him 

That flesh is grass ? — That earthly things are mist ? 

What are our joys but dreams ? And what our hopes 

But goodly shadows in the summer cloud ? 

There's not a wind that blows, but bears with it 

Some rainbow promise. — Not a moment flies 

But puts its sickle in the fields of life, 

And mows its thousands, with their joys and cares. 

2. 'Tis but as yesterday, since on yon stars, 
Which now I view, the Chaldee shepherd* gaz'd 
In his mid-Avatch, observant, and dispos'd 

The t winkling hosts, as fancy gave them shape. 

* Alluding to the first Astronomical observations, made by the Chaldean 
shepherds. 



334 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Yet in tlie interim, what midity shocks 
Have bufFetted mankind — whole nations razed— 
Cities made desolate — the poHshed sunk 
To barbarism, and once barbaric states 
Swaying the wand of science and of arts ; 
Illustrious deeds and memorable names 
Blotted from record, and upon the tongue 
Of grey tradition, voluble no more. 

3. Wliere are the heroes of the ages past ; 
Where the brave chieftains — where the mighty ones 
Who flourished in the infancy of days ? — 

All to the grave gone down ! — On their fall'n fame 

Exultant, mocking at the pride of man. 

Sits grim Forgetfulness. — The warrior's arm 

Lies nerveless on the pillow of its shame ; 

Hush'd is his stormy voice, and quenched the blaze 

Of his red eye-ball. 

4. Yesterday his name 

Was mighty on the earth — To-day — 'tis what ? 
The meteor of the night of distant years. 
That flash'd unnotic'd, save by wrinkled eld 
Musing a c midnight upon prophecies. 
Who at her lonely lattice saw the gleam 
Point to the mist-pois'd shroud, then quietly 
Clos'd her pale lips, and lock'd the secret up 
Safe in the charnel's treasures. 

5. O how weak 
Is mortal man ! How trifling — how confin'd 
His scope of vision ! — Puft''d with confidence, 
His 'phrase grows big with immortality ; 
And he, poor insect of a summer's day, 
Dreams of eternal honors to his name ; 

Of endless glory, and perennial bays. 
He idly reasons of Eternity, 
As of the train of ages, — Avhen, alas ! 
Ten thousand thousand of his centuries 
Are, in comparison, a little point, 
Too trivial for account. 

6. it is strange, 
*Tis passing strange, to mark his fallacies ; 
Behold him proudly view some pompous pile, 
Whose high dome swells to emulate the skies> 
And smile and say, my name shall live with this, 
Till Time shall be no more ; while at his ieei^ 



NATIONAL PRECEFl^OR. 335 

Yea, at his very feet, the crumbling dust 

Of the faU'n fabric of the other day, 

Preaches the solemn lesson. — He should know, 

That time must conquer, That the loudest blast 

That ever fill'd Renown's obstrep'rous trump, 

Fades in the lapse of ages, and expires. 

Who lies inhum'd in the terrific gloom 

Of the gigantic pyramid ? Or who 

Rear'd its huge wall '{ — Oblivion laughs and says, 

The prey is mine. They sleep, and never more 

Their names shall strike upon the ear of man, 

Their mem'ry burst its fetters. 

7. Where is Rome ? 
She lives but in the tale of other times ; 

Her proud pavilions are the hermits' home. 
And her long colonnades, her public walks,^^_^ 
Now faintly echo to the pilgrim's feet. 
Who comes to muse in solitude, and trace. 
Through the rank moss reveal'd, her honored dust. 

8. But not to Rome alone has fate confin'd 
The' doom of ruin ; cities numberless. 
Tyre, Sidon, Carthage, Babylon, and Troy, 
And rich Phoenicia — they are blotted out, 
Half-raz'd from memory ; and their very name 
And being in dispute ! 



LESSON CLXXHL 

Jugurtha* in Prison. — Rev. C. Wolfe. 
] . Well — is the rack prepared — the pincers heated ? 
Where is the scourge ? — How ? — not employed in Rome ? 

* Jugurtha was the son of Mastanabai and ^rand-son of the famous Mas- 
sinissa, king of Numidia. His father having died while he was yet a child, 
he was taken by his uncle Micipsa and educated with his two sons, Hiemp- 
eal and Adherbal. At the death of Micipsa, the kingdom of Numidia was 
divided equally between Jugurth?i, and his two cousins. Jugurtha, greatly 
in favor with the people, and ambitious to possess the kingdom alone^ mur- 
dered Hiempsal, and sought to do the same by Adherbal, who fled to Rome 
for succor. The Roman senate, being highly bribed, not only declared 
Jugurtha innocent, but decreed him the sovereignty of half the kingdom. 
Soon after this, he besieged Adherbal in Cirta, the capital of the kingdom, 
took him, and cruelly put him to death. This drew on him the vengeance 
of the Romans. Being defeated several times by the army under the consul 
Marius, he applied to Bocchus, his father-in-law, king of Mauritania, for 
assistance, by whom he was betrayed intvO the hands of the Romans, He 
was led in chains to Rome to grace the triumph of Marius, The senate con- 
demned him to be starved to death in a dungeon, where he died, B, C. 103- 

28 • 



326 NATIONAL PRECEPTOit 

"We have them in Numidia. Not in Rome ? 

I'm sorry for it ;• — I could enjoy it now ; 

I might have felt them yesterday ; but now, — 

Now, I have seen my funeral procession ; 

The chariot-wheels of Marius* have roU'd o'er me ; • 

His horses' hoofs have trampled me in triumph ; 

I have attain'd that terrible consummation. 

My soul could stand aloof, and from on high 

Look down upon the ruins of my body 

Smiling in apathy ; — I feel no longer ; 

I challenge Rome to give another pang. 

Oh ! how he smiled, when he beheld me pause 

Before his car, and scowl upon the mob ; 

The curse of Rome was burning on my lips, 

And I had gnaw'd my chain, and hurl'd it at them 

But that I knew he would have smiled again. 

2. A king ! and led before the gaudy Marius, 
Before those shouting masters of the world. 

As if I had been conquered : while each street, 
Each peopled wall, and each insulting window, 
Peal'd forth their brawling triumphs o'er my head 
Oh ! for a lion from thy woods, Numidia ! — 
Or had I, in that moment of disgracs. 
Enjoy 'd the freedom but of yonder slave, 
I would have made my monument in Rome. 
Yet I am not that fool, that Rom.an fool, 
To think disgrace entombs the hero's soul, — 
Forever damps his fires, and dims his glories ; 
That no bright laurel can adorn the brow 
That once has bow'd ; no victory's trumpet-sound 
Can drown in joy the rattling of his chains. 

3. What avails it now. 
That my proud views despised the narrow limits, 
Which minds that span and measure out ambition 
Had fixed to mine ; and, while I seemed intent 
On savage subjects and Numidian forests. 

My soul had pass'd the bounds of Africa ! — 

♦ Caius Marius, a distinguished Roman general. He -svas seven times 
consul. Dissensions having arisen between liirn and Sylla, INlarius and his 
party were defeated, and he was obliged to flee from Italy. After various 
disasters, he landed in Africa, and went in a melancholy manner and seated 
himself among the ruins of Carthage. His party, headed by Cinna, gain- 
ing the ascendency, he retvu-ned to Rome, and put to death all whom he 
considered his enemies. Marius assumed the consulship, but died about one 
pionth after, in a fit of debauch, aged 70— B. C. 86. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 327 

Defeated ! — overthrown ! — yet to the last 

Ambition taught me hope ; and still my mind, 

Through danger, flight, and carnage, grasp'd dominion; 

And had not Bocchus — curses, curses on him ! — 

What Rome has done, she did it for ambition ; 

What Rome has done, I might — I would have done ; 

What thou hast done, thou wretch ! — Oh had she preyed 

Nobly deceitful : had she seized the traitor. 

And joined him with the fate of the betrayed, 

I had forgiven her all ; for he had been 

The consolation of my prison hours ; 

I could forget my woes in stinging him ; 

And if, before this day, his little soul 

Had not in bondage wept itself away, 

Rome and Jugurtha should have triumphed o'er him. 

4. Look here, thou caitiff,* if thou canst, and see 
The fragments of Jugurtha ; — vi^v him vn-apt 

In the last shred he borrow'd from Numidia ; 
'Tis cover'd with the dust of Rome ; — behold 
His rooted gaze upon the chains he wears. 
And on the channels they have wrought upon him ; 
Then look around upon his dungeon walls, 
And view yon scanty mat, on which his frame 
He flings, and rushes from his thoughts to sleep. 

5. Sleep ! 
I'll sleep no more, until I sleep forever : 
When I slept last, I heard Adherbal scream. 
I'll sleep no more ! I'll think until I die : 
My eyes shall pore upon my miseries, 
Until my miseries shall be no m.ore. 

Yet wherefore did he scream? Why, I have heard 

His living- scream, — it was not half so frightful. 

Whence comes the difference ? When the man was living 

Why, I did gaze upon his couch of torments 

With placid vengeance, and each ariguish'd cry 

Gave me stern satisfaction ; now he's dead. 

And his lips move not : — yet his voice's image 

Flash'd such a dreadful darkness o'er my soul, 

I would not hear that fearful cry aorain 

For the high glory of Numidia's throne. 

6. But ah ! 'twas I that caused that living scream, 
And therefora did its echo seem so frightful : — 

If 'twere to do again, I would not kill thee ; 

* Pronounced ca-tif, a base villain — meaning Bocchua, 



?m NATIONAL PRECEPTOK. 

"Wilt thou not be contented ? — But thou say'st, 

" My father was to thee a father also ; 

He watch'd thy infant years, and gave thee all 

That youth could ask, and scarcely manhood came, 

Than came a kingdom also ; yet didst thou" — 

Oh I am faint !- — they have not brought me food — 

How did I not perceive it until now ? 

Hold, — my Numidian cruse is still about me — 

No drop within — Oh, faithful friend, companion 

Of many a weary march and thirsty day ; 

'Tis the first time that thou hast fail'd my lips. — 

7. Gods ! I'm in tears ! — I did not think of weeping. 
Oh Marius, wilt thou ever feel like this ? 
Ha ! I behold the ruin of a city ; 
And on a craggy fragment sits a form 
That seems in ruins also ; how unmoved. 
How stern he looks ! Amazement ! it is Marius. 
Ha ! Marius, think'st thou now upon Jugurtha ? 
He turns ! he's caught my eye ! — I see no more ! 



LESSON CLXXIV. 
Rienzt's^ Address to the Romans. — Miss Mitford. 

1. Friends, 

I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam 
Falls on a slave ; not such as, swept along 
By the full tide of power, the conqueror led 
To crimson glory and undying fame ; 
But base, ignoble slaves — slaves to a horde 
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots ! lords 
Rich in some dozen paltry villages — 
Strong in some hundred spearmen — only great 
In that strange spell — a name. 

2. Each hour, dark fraud, 
Or open rapine, or protected murder, 

* Nicolas Gabrini de Rienzi, a remarkable character of the 14th century« 
He was the son of an obscure miller, yet by his zeal in opposing the existing 
vices, and by persuading his friends that he was able to restore the ancient 
glory of his country, he gained the supreme power ; and was declared sove- 
reign of Rome, with the approbation of the Pope. This excited the jealousy 
of the nobles, and he was murdered in 1354. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 32gf 

Cry or,t against them. Btit this very day, 

An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands, 

Was struck, struck hke a dog, by one who wore 

The badge of Ursini* ; because, forsooth, 

He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 

Nor hfted up his voice in servile shouts, 

At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men, 

And suffer such dishonor — Men, and wash not 

The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common : 

I have known deeper wrongs. 

3. I, that speak to ye, 
I had a brother once, a gracious boy. 

Full of gentleness, of calmest hope. 
Of sweet and quiet joy — there was the look 
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 
*To the beloved disciple.' Hov/ I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! ' He left my side ; 
A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, — a smile 
Parting his innocent lips.' In one short hour 
The prett}^ harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance ! 

4. Rouse, ye Romans ! — Rouse, ye slaves! 
Have ye brave sons ? — Look in the next fierce brawl 
To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? — Look 

To see them live, torn from your arms, di stained. 

Dishonored ; and if ye dare call for justice. 

Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome, 

That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne 

Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet, we are Romans ! 

Why in that elder day to be a Roman 

Was greater than a king ! And once again, — 

Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 

Of either Brutusf ! once again, I swear, 

The eternal city shall be free ; her sons 

Shall walk witli princes ! 

♦ Ursini, a Roman nobleman. 

t Lucius Junius Brutus, one who expelled the Tarquins, and abolished 
the regal government at Rome, B. C. 509. 

Marcus Junius Brutus, one of the conspirators who assassinate-d Julius 
Cesar, 

28* 



S30 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON CLXXV, 

Battle of Waterloo* — Lord Byron. 

1. There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capitalt had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : 

A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 

Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 

Soft eyes looked love to eyes v/hich spake again, 

And ail went merry as a marriage-bell ; 

But hush! hark ! — a deep sound strikes like a rising knel! 

2. Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'tw^as but the wind. 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : 

On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — 

But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, 

As if the clouds its echo would repeat. 

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 

Arm ! arm I it is — it is — the cannon'' s opening roar ! 

3. Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness : 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated — who could guess 
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes. 

Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? 

4. And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward witJi impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; 

And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ; 

* Waterloo, a town of Belgium, 12 miles south of Brussels. It is well 
known as the scene of one of the most important and hard fought battles in 
modern times, betw^een the allied British, German, and Belgic troops, under 
the duke of Wellington and marshal Blucher; and the French, under Na- 
poleon Bonaparte, June 18th, 1815. The French were totally defeated, and 
the hopes of Bonaparte f&r ever blasted. 

t Bi-ussels, one of the most splendid cities in Europe, celebrated for its 
manufacture of carpets. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 381 

And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, 
Or whispering with white lips — " The foe ! They come I 
they come !" 

5. And Ardennes* waves above them her green leaves, 
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 

Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! 

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 

In its next verdure, when this fxcry mass 

Of living valor rolling on the foe, 

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. 

6. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life. 
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay, 

The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, 

The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day. 

Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, 

The earth is covered thick with other clay. 

Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 

Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent ! 



LESSON CLXXVI. 

The Power of Eloquence. — Gary. 

\. Heard ye those loud contending waves, 

That shook Cecropia'sf piilar'd state 1 
Saw ye the mighty from their graves 

Look up and tremble at her fate ? 
Who shall calm the angry storm ? 
Who the mJghty task perform. 

And bid the raging tumult cease ? 
See the son of Hermes;|: rise ; 
With syren tongue, and speaking eyes, 

Hush the noise, and sooth to peace ! 

* Ardennes, a chain of mountains between the Meuse and Moselle rivers, 
m the grand-duchy of Luxemburg, 

t Athens, the ancient capital of Attica, was founded by Cecrops, 1550 
years B. C, and was called Cecropia till the time of Ericthonius, when it 
received the name of Athens, 

t Demosthenes, the Grecian orator, called the son of Hermes, because 
Hermes, or Mercury, was the god of eloquence. 



332 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

2. Lo ! from the regions of the North, 

The reddening storm of battle pours ; 
Rolls along the trembling earth, 

Fastens on the Olynthian* towers. 
" Where rests the sword ? — where sleep the brave ? 
Awake ! Cecropia's ally save 

From the fury of the blast ; 
Burst the storm on Phocis' walls ; 
Rise ! or Greece forever falls, 
Up ! or Freedom breathes her last !" 

3. The jarring States, obsequious now, 

View the Patriot's hand on high ; 
Thunder gathering on his brow, 

Lightning flashing from his eye ! 
Borne by the tide of words along. 
One voice, one mind, inspire the throng 

" To arms ! to arms ! to arms !" they cry, 
" Grasp the shield, and draw the sword, 
Lead us to Philippi's lord,t 

Let us conquer him — or die I" 

4. Ah ! Eloquence ! thou wast undone ; 

Wast from thy native country driven, 
When TjTanny eclips'd the sun, 

And blotted out the stars of heaven. 
When liberty from Greece withdrew, 
And o'er the Adriatic flew, 

To where the Tiber pours his urn, 
She struck the rude TarpeianJ rock ; 
Sparks were kindled by the shock — 

Again thy fires began to burn ! 

5. Now shining forth, thou mad'st compliant 

The Conscript Fathers to thy charms ; 
Rous'd the world-bestriding giant. 

Sinking fast in Slavery's arms ! 
I see thee stand by Freedom's fane. 
Pouring the persuasive strain, ' 

♦ Olyntlius was a celebrated town of Macedonia, which was destroyed by 
Philip, and the inha.bitants sold for slaves. 

t Philip, king of Macedon. 

t The Tarpeian rock is a hill at Rome, about 80 feet in perpendicular 
height, whence condemned criminals were sometimes thrown. 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

Giving vast conceptions birth ; 
Hark ! I hear thy thunder's sound, 
Shake the Forum round and round — 

Shake the pillars of the earth ! 

First-born of Liberty divine ! 

Put on Religion's bright array ; 
Speak ! and the starless grave shall shine 

The portal of eternal day ! 
Rise, kindling vt^ith the orient beam ; 
Let Calvary^ s hill inspire the theme ! 

Unfold the garments roll'd in blood ! 
O touch the soul, touch all her chords, 
With all the omnipotence of words, 

And point th£,way to Heaven — to God. 



LESSON CLXXVII. 

Death of Marco Bozzaris* — Halleck. 

1. At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power ; 
In dreams, through camp and court, he bor^" 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

2. An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
He woke — to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 

And death shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band ; 

* He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Camp at Laspi, the site of the 
ancient Platsea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. 
His last words were — " To die for liberty is a pleasure, not a pain." 



2' 334 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

" Strike — till the last armed foe expires, 
Strike — for your altars and your fires, 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, 
God—and your native land !" 

3. They fought like brave men, long and well. 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain. 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, . 

Like flowers at set of sun. %§ 

4. Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! 

Come to the mother, when she feels 
For the first time her first-born's breath ;— 

Come when the blessed seals 
Which close the pestilence are broke. 
And crov/ded cities wail its stroke ; — 
Come in consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; — • 
Come when the heart beats high and warm 

With banquet-song, and dance, and ^vine, 
And thou art terrible ; the tear. 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all Ave knovi'^, or dream, or fear 

Of agony, are thine. 

5. But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free. 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be, 
Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time. 
Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 

We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art Fredom's now, and Fame's— 
One of the few, the immortal names. 

That were not born to die 



NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 335 

LESSON CLXXYIIL 
Dream of Clarence. — Shakspeare. 

1. O, I have passed a miserable night, 
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, 
That, as I am a Christian faithful man, 

I would not spend another such a night, 
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days: 
So full of dismal terror was the time. 

2. Methought that I had broken from the tower. 
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, 

And in my company my brother Gloucester,* 

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 

Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England, 

And cited up a thousand heavy times. 

During the wars of York and Lancaster, 

That had befallen us. As we passed along 

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 

Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling 

Struck me (that sought to stay him) overboard, 

Into the tumbling billows of the main. 

3. O, then riiethought, what pain it was to drown ! 
What dreadful noise of waters in my ears ! 

What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 

Methought I saw a thousand fearful v/recks ; 

A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon ; 

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 

Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels ; 

All scattered in the bottom of the sea. 

Some lay in dead men's sculls ; and in those holes 

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept. 

As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, 

That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep. 

And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. 

4. Often did I strive 

To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood 
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
To find the empty, vast, and wandering air ; 
But smother' J it witliin my panting bulk, 
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 

5. My dream was lengthened after life ; 
O, then began the tempest of my soul ; 

* Richard III. king of England, in 1483. 



a^ NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 

I passed, methouglit, the melancholy flood, 
With that grim ferryman which poets write ol^ 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
The first that there did greet my stranger-soul, 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, 

Who cried aloud " What scourge for perjury 

Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?" 
And so he vanished. 

6. Then came wandering by 

A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 

Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud 

" Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, 
That stabbed me in the 'field by Tewkesbury ; 
Seize on him, furies I take him to your torments 1" 
With that, methought a legion of foul fiends 
Environed me, and howled into mine ears 
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise 
I trembling waked ; and for a season after 
Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 



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